Hiroshima Joe Read Online Free PDF Page A

employment, albeit part-time.
    ‘I’m ready when you are,’ he said, feigning humour, yet he meant it.
    Leung became serious and leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands spread open. He looked like a Taoist priest about to give a benediction.
    ‘Right now, I’ve nothing, but’ – he saw a look of desperation sharpen Sandingham’s eyes – ‘there will be something in a few weeks. Have you ever been to Macau?’
    ‘Not since before the war,’ Sandingham answered.
    ‘Well, maybe a trip there.’ Leung leaned back. ‘You will like it. It hasn’t changed like Hong Kong has. It’s still old-fashioned, like a bit of Europe transported to China four hundred years ago and left there. In the meantime, have you anything for me?’
    This was Sandingham’s cue, his opportunity. It had been like this in the old days, during the war. Leung had said it just that way then, too. Of course, at that time they had been equals.
    ‘It’s in my coat.’
    Leung snapped his fingers and the door guard, who must have been awaiting the signal, entered carrying Sandingham’s jacket. He did not return it to its owner, but went through the pockets himself, taking out a manilla envelope of the size used to send invoices through the post. He handed this to Leung who opened it and tipped out the contents: it was a lady’s brooch. In the centre was a red stone and surrounding this were seven smaller, greeny-blue stones.
    ‘A ruby and aquamarines,’ said Sandingham, with what he hoped sounded like authority.
    ‘Aquamarines, certainly,’ replied Leung, twisting the piece in his fingers, noting that the catch was broken. ‘But a ruby this size? I’m afraid not. If it was, it would be – what? – eight, maybe nine carats. No, Joseph, this is a garnet.’ He spoke patronisingly with mock kindness, as if instructing a pupil in gemology. ‘Nevertheless,’ he added, ‘it is a pretty brooch.’
    He smiled expansively, passing the stone to and fro under the lamp.
    ‘Where did you get it?’ he asked after a pause.
    ‘I found it,’ said Sandingham. Leung chuckled at this. ‘It’s true,’ he added quickly. ‘It was on the vehicle deck of the Yaumati car ferry. It was in the scuppers.’
    ‘Why did you not take it to the police? There might be a reward.’
    Sandingham shrugged and tried a smile in return. Leung appreciated that: it was a sign that the European knew his place in this new world. He returned a grin and then, holding the brooch, his eyes hardened.
    ‘Fifty-five dollars.’ It was not an offer. It was a statement of fact.
    Sandingham divided fifty-five by fourteen in his head – three pounds, eighteen shillings and four pence. His mental arithmetic translated the sum into three bottles of gin or fifteen hundred cigarettes.
    ‘Seventy-five?’ he questioned. He knew that, to buy such a brooch at one of the jewellery shops in Hankow Road, the owner must have had to pay at least four hundred dollars …
    ‘You are the only man who would even try to dicker with me,’ said Leung. He had picked that word up in San Francisco, too. ‘Sixty-five is the best I’ll go. And only for old time’s sake.’
    Considering himself lucky, Sandingham nodded. Without waiting to be asked, for he knew the routine, he stood up and turned his back to the camphorwood chest. The guard positioned himself so he could make sure Sandingham did not try to catch a glimpse of the combination. The tumblers fell very silently. When he heard the lock spin Sandingham turned around and Leung gave him sixty-five purple Hong Kong dollar bills bearing the head of George VI. They were in mint condition, although no such notes had been issued in recent years. Sandingham guessed they were from one of the hoards of currency Leung was rumoured to have accumulated during the immediate post-war years.
    Carefully, he folded the notes into thin strips and tucked them into a hole in the waistband lining of his trousers. It was a trick he’d originally learnt from