Wang-wei stared at them. “Turtle Nine? Back so soon — I–I had not heard. He did not report to me.”
“He did not report to anyone,” said Chou. His voice was mean, nasty. “He came by way of the British Trade Commission. Well sealed and packaged. I am convinced that the British did not really know what they were delivering — they did it as a favor to the Americans.”
“I do not understand.”
“You will. Watch.”
A door opened in the apartment below and four coolies entered. They were carrying something. Wang-wei felt the sweat start on him. A coffin! A plain pine box.
“Take a good look,” said Chou softly. “It is the last time you will ever see your favorite Turtle. Turtle Nine! Remember how you bragged of him?”
Wang-wei could not answer. He automatically loosened his collar as he stared down through the glass floor. It was his Turtle, right enough. Turtle Nine. The perfect double for Nick Carter. Now pale and still in the box, his hands crossed on his big chest.
“He was even embalmed,” said the Leader crossly. “Courtesy of the American Air Force. How they must be laughing at us!”
Wang-wei wiped his sweaty face. “I–I still do not understand! I have heard nothing. I—”
Chou leaned to hand him something. A small slip of paper with a gummed back. A seal of some kind. “Perhaps this will enlighten you, friend Wang-wei. The coffin was sealed with many of them. All signed. Read it.”
Wang-wei stared down at the little paper seal in his hand. It bore the AXE symbol — a murderous little hatchet! Across the seal, scrawled in a bold hand, was: Worst wishes, NC.
“Phase One and Two of Dragon Plan have failed,” said the Leader. “We shall have to think of something else.”
Wang-wei mopped the inside of his collar. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the coffin. “Yes, Comrade Leader. I will begin planning at once.”
“Not you,” said the Leader.
To Wang-wei the words sounded oddly, and terribly, like a firing squad.