The League Extraordinaire
Part 5
by DarkMark
The phone rang while he was hard at work on his manuscript. He didn't curse, except mentally. His right hand stabbed out from the keys of his typewriter, wrapped its fingers quickly about the receiver, and pulled it off so abruptly the body of the phone fell to the floor. He didn't bother picking it up.
"Yes."
"Good afternoon, John. Please don't hang up." The voice was a familiar one.
"Thirty seconds to convince me why I shouldn't." The irritation was replaced by a calm which surprised even himself. But it was mounting to anger.
"We've got an extremely dangerous matter on our hands. Wouldn't call you otherwise."
"Didn't know you cared."
"The ministry feels you could be of use in this one, John."
"I am of no use to you and little more to myself. The answer is no."
"The situation is such that the entire world may be imperilled. We felt that, with your expertise--"
"I am sorry, but the answer is still no. You have capable men in your employ. We both know that."
"John, we were not responsible for what happened to you after your resignation."
"Weren't you? Whether you did it or not, I'll wager you knew of the abduction. And where I was taken."
"The very fate of the Free World may be at stake, John."
"It was very frequently when I was knocking about for you. Somehow, it survived while I was absent from it. Send some of your other men."
"We have, John. But we'd feel more secure if you were there, even in just an observer's capacity."
"I held an observer's capacity for better than a year, and I lost my taste for it. My answer, sir, is still no."
"Are you certain, John?"
"What do you mean?"
"A single D-notice to the publishers here, and your book will not be published within Britain. Indeed, you'll be lucky to find a market for it anywhere."
"As a matter of fact, I wasn't expecting to get it published over here. But the imported copies might even rival Lady Chatterley's Lover for sales. My publisher will be an American. They'd love to have all the details. And by the way, don't bother threatening me. Certain manuscripts can find their way into the hands of the papers before you can slap your D-notices on them. Here, and abroad."
"You're making this difficult, John."
"I intend to."
A sigh. "If you reconsider, you know where to reach me. We've not even cancelled your old designation. Your number's still there, if you want it."
A long pause, broken only by the sounds of heavy and angry breath. Then:
"I would think that your files on me would be a bit more updated than that, sir. I would think that you knew that I have developed a particular aversion to being filed. Or indexed. Or encapsulized. Or NUMBERED!"
The last was shouted out, and the veins stood out in his neck as he did it. He didn't even give his old boss the chance to reply. He scooped the telephone body off the floor, slammed the receiver down upon it, and stood up for a few seconds to give himself time to resume his normal breathing.
He looked at the page in his typewriter. Page 85 of his expose, THE VILLAGE IDIOT.
The phone began to ring again.
John Drake ignored it, sat down, and got back to work.
-L-
"No one can give you that answer, Mr. Lee," said Bond, calmly. "So, if you want to blow your own head off, go right ahead. None of us will stop you."
The restaurant owner sighed, released his finger-tension on the trigger, took the gun away from his temple, and lay it on the desk blotter. "Perhaps it would be best, Mr. Hazzard. Perhaps it would be far better."
The tension receded a bit. Flint took a post near the door, standing with his arms folded, gun still in hand. Bond replaced his own weapon. Emma had not drawn any armament from her shoulder bag. There were two white formica chairs before the desk. Bond and Emma sat in them.
"Who has sent you here?" asked Lee.
"We are interested in the Si-Fan," said Emma Peel. "We were directed to you, Mr. Lee. Why, I have no idea. Are you a member?"
Lee looked as though she had accused him of buggery, for an instant. Then he composed himself. "No. I am not, madame. But I will not reveal how or why I acquired my knowledge. Such information is, perhaps, more dangerous than what I know of the enemy."
"Did you work for Nayland Smith?" said Bond, abruptly.
Lee stared at him.
Emma looked at Bond. He said, "It's not a hard guess. Smith was known in the trade for his activities. They called him the one man who could deal with Fu Manchu–" (At this, Lee flinched.) "–but of course, he had a lot of help in dealing with him. Not all of that help was, forgive me, Caucasian."
The Chinese man took a deep breath. "No offense taken, Mr. Hazzard. My duties for Smith were not known to many. As the Doctor had agents who were not Chinese, so, too, did Smith have help in, so to say, the other camp."
"How long ago was that?" asked Emma.
"The 1940's," said Lee. "The Revolution was in progress in China. Her Majesty's government, of course, did not want the Communists to succeed. But it did have the effect of throwing the Brotherhood into chaos, just as, in Italy, Mussolini had briefly oppressed the Mafia. I was a young man then. I had been in the War, and then was given the chance to aid Smith's operations. I did so."
Flint spoke up. "We appreciate your trust, Mr. Lee. Rest assured, neither I, nor my associates, will disclose your role in this, or what roles you may have had."
Lee shrugged, resignedly. "Like the Triad, the Brotherhood watches. They may already know. What can I tell you? What do you already know?"
"You may have heard of the missile attack on an office building today," said Bond. "We have reason to believe that was engineered by the Si-Fan."
After a moment, Lee said, "And you may have precipitated such an attack on this establishment by being here. Mr. Hazzard, your name is quite appropriate."
Emma ventured, "Mr. Lee, we can take you to a place of safekeeping."
"You can take my family to a place of safekeeping, and I will see what has to come," said Lee. "The missle attack. Unbelievable. In this country."
"Yes, Mr. Lee," agreed Flint. "In this country. Unbelievable. Which makes it imperative for us to find the party responsible, and destroy their capacities for doing such. And perhaps to destroy them."
"Oh? And how successful have they been? The Si-Fan has stood for centuries. As have the Union Corse, the Mafia, the Triad. All opposed, all held in check, all mostly prisoner of their wish only to be parasites, not conquerors. But Fu Manchu–" He looked beyond them, into memory. "Now, there was a conqueror."
"To the point, Mr. Lee," said Emma. "We may not have much time."
"Besides which, as a conqueror, he's been about as lucky as SPECTRE," said Bond. "Which is to say, not much. Bridesmaid rather than bride."
Lee looked almost insulted. "SPECTRE's hierarchy, I understand, has changed. So have that of the other brotherhoods in the world. For the last fifty years, the Si-Fan have been the sole domain of Fu Manchu. There is evidence that the atomic bomb, the laser, were both discovered fundamentally by him ages before the West. His life and youth are extended by a potion beyond the knowledge of the greatest modern researchers. It is also rumored that his learning extends beyond that of the strictly scientific, into the parascientific, into that which you would call the supernatural. I would be loath to dispute that sort of claim."
"He's been beaten, though," said Bond. "By ordinary policemen, I hear, or M.I.6 men."
"Stopped, yes," said Lee. "Beaten, no. I doubt that Fu Manchu will ever be beaten, Mr. Hazzard. I believe the Si Fan will always exist."
"Then what do you have to tell us of their activities here?"
For a long moment, the restauranteur did not answer. Then he spoke. "Chinatown is, as you might surmise, Mr. Hazzard, a hard place in which to hide things. Though not impossible, edges tend to stick out. There is evidence of certain persons in these streets unknown since the days, I might say, of the Tongs. At certain dark times, comings and goings, seen by only a few, and whispered about by fewer still of them. But things have been heard of, Mr. Hazzard, and possibly seen, meaningless to most, but to one who knew the Si-Fan–" He made a short movement with his hand. "Most unsettling. To be sure."
"To be sure," said Bond.
"Mark," said Flint, in caution. His arms were uncrossed. He looked at the door. He had, Bond guessed, heard something.
There were a number of footsteps coming down the hall. Emma was already pressed into the corner of one wall, a small gun from her bag in hand. Bond looked at Lee, and the latter was already up, ready to take what shelter he could.
The Walther was in Bond's hand.
Then the voice came: "It's us," it said. "Your uncles."
Bond relaxed a bit and swore, softly. Then he said, "Who've you got with you?" There were more than two sets of footsteps.
"A pair of old friends," said Illya. "Can we come in now?"
Bond looked at Flint and Emma. They gave no objections. "All right," said Bond.
The door swung open. Solo and Illya herded in two persons before them, not forcibly, just ushering them over the threshold. One of Lee's waitresses was visible in the back, looking nervous. Both were an older couple. The man was six feet in height, with an immaculate silver beard, and the word "distinguished" was entirely inadequate, though he walked with a limp. The woman with him, obviously his wife, complimented him.
"How do you do," said the man, in a British way.
Napoleon Solo, looking as though he'd been in something about which he'd have to brief them (as did Illya), said, "Lady and gentlemen, two of my friends from this city: Mr. and Mrs. Ward Baldwin. They used to work for the opposition, but we've worked together several times. They have one thing to say, then we all have to get the hell out of here."
"Send the girl away," said Ward Baldwin, "and I will speak. If Mr. Lee comes with us."
Lee stiffened. "What is it? Leave us, Lisa," he said. The girl, looking a bit relieved, walked down the hall twice as fast as a waitress ought to. Kuryakin closed the door.
Bond was not eager to take on another charge. If anyone else came aboard, he thought, they might as well give every member of Parliament a gun and ship them over. But at least Baldwin looked like a man who belonged there. Not in the action, but in support.
He didn't look as though much disturbed him, but his voice was very low when he said it.
"A bomb," he said. "Fu Manchu's building a cobalt bomb."
To be continued...
Notes for part 5:
"Good afternoon, John. Please don't hang up." John Drake, British former secret agent who appeared first in the series DANGER MAN and SECRET AGENT, and, after resigning from the service, was kidnapped to the Village, where he became Number 6 in THE PRISONER.
"Weren't you? Whether you did it or not, I'll wager you knew of the abduction." Hours after turning in his resignation, John Drake was gassed unconscious and awoke to find himself a part of an island community of agents from various powers, held there by shadowy forces represented by the ever-changing Number Two. Names were forbidden in the Village, but each and every inhabitant had a number. Drake's was Number Six. Eventually he succeeded in escaping the Village, liberating its prisoners, and returning to London, as shown in THE PRISONER. There were indications that the British government knew of his abduction, and, whether or not it was an active particpant, did nothing to rescue him.
"Page 85 of his expose, THE VILLAGE IDIOT." This book appears in DC's THE PRISONER series, though we may not consider that canonical.
"SPECTRE's hierarchy, I understand, has changed." It had to, after Ernst Stavro Blofeld retired and then was killed by Bond in YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE.
"There is evidence that the atomic bomb, the laser, were both discovered fundamentally by him ages before the West. His life and youth are extended by a potion beyond the knowledge of the greatest modern researchers." Fu Manchu's exploration into the secrets of atomic power are told of in Cay Van Ash's TEN YEARS BEYOND BAKER STREET. His discovery of the laser is delineated in Van Ash's THE FIRES OF FU MANCHU. The longevity potion, known as the Elixir Vitae, appears in several of the Sax Rohmer novels.
"He's been beaten, though," said Bond. "By ordinary policemen, I hear, or M.I.6 men." Most often by Denis Nayland Smith and Dr. Petrie in the Fu Manchu novels, but occasionally by others such as Shan Greville or Tony McKay.
Part 5
by DarkMark
The phone rang while he was hard at work on his manuscript. He didn't curse, except mentally. His right hand stabbed out from the keys of his typewriter, wrapped its fingers quickly about the receiver, and pulled it off so abruptly the body of the phone fell to the floor. He didn't bother picking it up.
"Yes."
"Good afternoon, John. Please don't hang up." The voice was a familiar one.
"Thirty seconds to convince me why I shouldn't." The irritation was replaced by a calm which surprised even himself. But it was mounting to anger.
"We've got an extremely dangerous matter on our hands. Wouldn't call you otherwise."
"Didn't know you cared."
"The ministry feels you could be of use in this one, John."
"I am of no use to you and little more to myself. The answer is no."
"The situation is such that the entire world may be imperilled. We felt that, with your expertise--"
"I am sorry, but the answer is still no. You have capable men in your employ. We both know that."
"John, we were not responsible for what happened to you after your resignation."
"Weren't you? Whether you did it or not, I'll wager you knew of the abduction. And where I was taken."
"The very fate of the Free World may be at stake, John."
"It was very frequently when I was knocking about for you. Somehow, it survived while I was absent from it. Send some of your other men."
"We have, John. But we'd feel more secure if you were there, even in just an observer's capacity."
"I held an observer's capacity for better than a year, and I lost my taste for it. My answer, sir, is still no."
"Are you certain, John?"
"What do you mean?"
"A single D-notice to the publishers here, and your book will not be published within Britain. Indeed, you'll be lucky to find a market for it anywhere."
"As a matter of fact, I wasn't expecting to get it published over here. But the imported copies might even rival Lady Chatterley's Lover for sales. My publisher will be an American. They'd love to have all the details. And by the way, don't bother threatening me. Certain manuscripts can find their way into the hands of the papers before you can slap your D-notices on them. Here, and abroad."
"You're making this difficult, John."
"I intend to."
A sigh. "If you reconsider, you know where to reach me. We've not even cancelled your old designation. Your number's still there, if you want it."
A long pause, broken only by the sounds of heavy and angry breath. Then:
"I would think that your files on me would be a bit more updated than that, sir. I would think that you knew that I have developed a particular aversion to being filed. Or indexed. Or encapsulized. Or NUMBERED!"
The last was shouted out, and the veins stood out in his neck as he did it. He didn't even give his old boss the chance to reply. He scooped the telephone body off the floor, slammed the receiver down upon it, and stood up for a few seconds to give himself time to resume his normal breathing.
He looked at the page in his typewriter. Page 85 of his expose, THE VILLAGE IDIOT.
The phone began to ring again.
John Drake ignored it, sat down, and got back to work.
-L-
"No one can give you that answer, Mr. Lee," said Bond, calmly. "So, if you want to blow your own head off, go right ahead. None of us will stop you."
The restaurant owner sighed, released his finger-tension on the trigger, took the gun away from his temple, and lay it on the desk blotter. "Perhaps it would be best, Mr. Hazzard. Perhaps it would be far better."
The tension receded a bit. Flint took a post near the door, standing with his arms folded, gun still in hand. Bond replaced his own weapon. Emma had not drawn any armament from her shoulder bag. There were two white formica chairs before the desk. Bond and Emma sat in them.
"Who has sent you here?" asked Lee.
"We are interested in the Si-Fan," said Emma Peel. "We were directed to you, Mr. Lee. Why, I have no idea. Are you a member?"
Lee looked as though she had accused him of buggery, for an instant. Then he composed himself. "No. I am not, madame. But I will not reveal how or why I acquired my knowledge. Such information is, perhaps, more dangerous than what I know of the enemy."
"Did you work for Nayland Smith?" said Bond, abruptly.
Lee stared at him.
Emma looked at Bond. He said, "It's not a hard guess. Smith was known in the trade for his activities. They called him the one man who could deal with Fu Manchu–" (At this, Lee flinched.) "–but of course, he had a lot of help in dealing with him. Not all of that help was, forgive me, Caucasian."
The Chinese man took a deep breath. "No offense taken, Mr. Hazzard. My duties for Smith were not known to many. As the Doctor had agents who were not Chinese, so, too, did Smith have help in, so to say, the other camp."
"How long ago was that?" asked Emma.
"The 1940's," said Lee. "The Revolution was in progress in China. Her Majesty's government, of course, did not want the Communists to succeed. But it did have the effect of throwing the Brotherhood into chaos, just as, in Italy, Mussolini had briefly oppressed the Mafia. I was a young man then. I had been in the War, and then was given the chance to aid Smith's operations. I did so."
Flint spoke up. "We appreciate your trust, Mr. Lee. Rest assured, neither I, nor my associates, will disclose your role in this, or what roles you may have had."
Lee shrugged, resignedly. "Like the Triad, the Brotherhood watches. They may already know. What can I tell you? What do you already know?"
"You may have heard of the missile attack on an office building today," said Bond. "We have reason to believe that was engineered by the Si-Fan."
After a moment, Lee said, "And you may have precipitated such an attack on this establishment by being here. Mr. Hazzard, your name is quite appropriate."
Emma ventured, "Mr. Lee, we can take you to a place of safekeeping."
"You can take my family to a place of safekeeping, and I will see what has to come," said Lee. "The missle attack. Unbelievable. In this country."
"Yes, Mr. Lee," agreed Flint. "In this country. Unbelievable. Which makes it imperative for us to find the party responsible, and destroy their capacities for doing such. And perhaps to destroy them."
"Oh? And how successful have they been? The Si-Fan has stood for centuries. As have the Union Corse, the Mafia, the Triad. All opposed, all held in check, all mostly prisoner of their wish only to be parasites, not conquerors. But Fu Manchu–" He looked beyond them, into memory. "Now, there was a conqueror."
"To the point, Mr. Lee," said Emma. "We may not have much time."
"Besides which, as a conqueror, he's been about as lucky as SPECTRE," said Bond. "Which is to say, not much. Bridesmaid rather than bride."
Lee looked almost insulted. "SPECTRE's hierarchy, I understand, has changed. So have that of the other brotherhoods in the world. For the last fifty years, the Si-Fan have been the sole domain of Fu Manchu. There is evidence that the atomic bomb, the laser, were both discovered fundamentally by him ages before the West. His life and youth are extended by a potion beyond the knowledge of the greatest modern researchers. It is also rumored that his learning extends beyond that of the strictly scientific, into the parascientific, into that which you would call the supernatural. I would be loath to dispute that sort of claim."
"He's been beaten, though," said Bond. "By ordinary policemen, I hear, or M.I.6 men."
"Stopped, yes," said Lee. "Beaten, no. I doubt that Fu Manchu will ever be beaten, Mr. Hazzard. I believe the Si Fan will always exist."
"Then what do you have to tell us of their activities here?"
For a long moment, the restauranteur did not answer. Then he spoke. "Chinatown is, as you might surmise, Mr. Hazzard, a hard place in which to hide things. Though not impossible, edges tend to stick out. There is evidence of certain persons in these streets unknown since the days, I might say, of the Tongs. At certain dark times, comings and goings, seen by only a few, and whispered about by fewer still of them. But things have been heard of, Mr. Hazzard, and possibly seen, meaningless to most, but to one who knew the Si-Fan–" He made a short movement with his hand. "Most unsettling. To be sure."
"To be sure," said Bond.
"Mark," said Flint, in caution. His arms were uncrossed. He looked at the door. He had, Bond guessed, heard something.
There were a number of footsteps coming down the hall. Emma was already pressed into the corner of one wall, a small gun from her bag in hand. Bond looked at Lee, and the latter was already up, ready to take what shelter he could.
The Walther was in Bond's hand.
Then the voice came: "It's us," it said. "Your uncles."
Bond relaxed a bit and swore, softly. Then he said, "Who've you got with you?" There were more than two sets of footsteps.
"A pair of old friends," said Illya. "Can we come in now?"
Bond looked at Flint and Emma. They gave no objections. "All right," said Bond.
The door swung open. Solo and Illya herded in two persons before them, not forcibly, just ushering them over the threshold. One of Lee's waitresses was visible in the back, looking nervous. Both were an older couple. The man was six feet in height, with an immaculate silver beard, and the word "distinguished" was entirely inadequate, though he walked with a limp. The woman with him, obviously his wife, complimented him.
"How do you do," said the man, in a British way.
Napoleon Solo, looking as though he'd been in something about which he'd have to brief them (as did Illya), said, "Lady and gentlemen, two of my friends from this city: Mr. and Mrs. Ward Baldwin. They used to work for the opposition, but we've worked together several times. They have one thing to say, then we all have to get the hell out of here."
"Send the girl away," said Ward Baldwin, "and I will speak. If Mr. Lee comes with us."
Lee stiffened. "What is it? Leave us, Lisa," he said. The girl, looking a bit relieved, walked down the hall twice as fast as a waitress ought to. Kuryakin closed the door.
Bond was not eager to take on another charge. If anyone else came aboard, he thought, they might as well give every member of Parliament a gun and ship them over. But at least Baldwin looked like a man who belonged there. Not in the action, but in support.
He didn't look as though much disturbed him, but his voice was very low when he said it.
"A bomb," he said. "Fu Manchu's building a cobalt bomb."
To be continued...
Notes for part 5:
"Good afternoon, John. Please don't hang up." John Drake, British former secret agent who appeared first in the series DANGER MAN and SECRET AGENT, and, after resigning from the service, was kidnapped to the Village, where he became Number 6 in THE PRISONER.
"Weren't you? Whether you did it or not, I'll wager you knew of the abduction." Hours after turning in his resignation, John Drake was gassed unconscious and awoke to find himself a part of an island community of agents from various powers, held there by shadowy forces represented by the ever-changing Number Two. Names were forbidden in the Village, but each and every inhabitant had a number. Drake's was Number Six. Eventually he succeeded in escaping the Village, liberating its prisoners, and returning to London, as shown in THE PRISONER. There were indications that the British government knew of his abduction, and, whether or not it was an active particpant, did nothing to rescue him.
"Page 85 of his expose, THE VILLAGE IDIOT." This book appears in DC's THE PRISONER series, though we may not consider that canonical.
"SPECTRE's hierarchy, I understand, has changed." It had to, after Ernst Stavro Blofeld retired and then was killed by Bond in YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE.
"There is evidence that the atomic bomb, the laser, were both discovered fundamentally by him ages before the West. His life and youth are extended by a potion beyond the knowledge of the greatest modern researchers." Fu Manchu's exploration into the secrets of atomic power are told of in Cay Van Ash's TEN YEARS BEYOND BAKER STREET. His discovery of the laser is delineated in Van Ash's THE FIRES OF FU MANCHU. The longevity potion, known as the Elixir Vitae, appears in several of the Sax Rohmer novels.
"He's been beaten, though," said Bond. "By ordinary policemen, I hear, or M.I.6 men." Most often by Denis Nayland Smith and Dr. Petrie in the Fu Manchu novels, but occasionally by others such as Shan Greville or Tony McKay.