"This address's 720. Tsu-yan could tie in with John Chen, the guns, Banastasio, Bartlett—even the Werewolves," Armstrong said.Crosse took the paper. After a pause he said, "Robert, take a team and check 720 and 721 right now.""It's not in my area, sir.""How right you are!" Crosse said at once, heavy with sarcasm. "Yes. I know. You're CID Kowloon, Robert, not Central. However, / authorize the raid. Go and do it. Now.""Yes sir." Armstrong left, red-faced.The silence gathered.Brian Kwok waited, staring stoically at the desk top. Crosse selected a cigarette with care, lit it, then leaned back in his chair. "Brian. I think Robert's the mole."291:38 P.M. :Robert Armstrong and a uniformed police sergeant got out of the squad car and headed through the crowds into the vast maw of the Princes Arcade with its jewelry and curio shops, camera shops and radio shops stuffed with the latest electronic miracles, that was on the ground floor of the old-fashioned, high-rise office building in Central. They eased their way toward a bank of elevators, joining the swarm of waiting people. Eventually he and the sergeant squeezed into an elevator. The air was heavy and fetid and nervous. The Chinese passengers watched them obliquely and uncomfortably.On the seventh floor Armstrong and the sergeant got out. The corridor was dingy and narrow with nondescript office doors on either side. He stood for a moment looking at the board. Room 720 was billed as "Ping-sing Wah Developments," 721 as "Asian and China Shipping." He walked ponderously down the corridor, Sergeant Yat alongside.As they turned the corner a middle-aged Chinese wearing a white shirt and dark trousers was coming out of room 720. He saw them, blanched, and ducked back in. When Armstrong got to the door he expected it to be locked but it wasn't and he jerked it open just in time to see the man in the white shirt disappearing out of the back door, another man almost jamming him in equal haste to flee. The back door slammed closed.Armstrong sighed. There were two rumpled secretaries in the sleazy, untidy office suite of three cramped rooms, and they were gawking at him, one with her chopsticks poised in midair over a bowl of chicken and noodles. The noodles slid off her chopsticks and fell back into the soup."Afternoon," Armstrong said.The two women gaped at him, then looked at the sergeant and back to him again."Where are Mr. Lim, Mr. Tak and Mr. Lo, please?"One of the girls shrugged and the other, unconcerned, began to eat again. Noisily. The office suite was untidy and unkempt. There were two phones, papers strewn around, plastic cups, dirty plates and bowls and used chopsticks. A teapot and tea cups. Full garbage cans.Armstrong took out the search warrant and showed it to them.The girls stared at him.Irritably Armstrong harshened his voice. "You speak English?"Both girls jumped. "Yes sir," they chorused."Good. Give your names to the sergeant and answer his questions. Th—" At that moment the back door opened again and the two men were herded back into the room by two hard-faced uniformed policemen who had been waiting in ambush. "Ah, good. Well done. Thank you, Corporal. Now, where were you two going?"At once the two men began protesting their innocence in voluble Cantonese."Shut up!" Armstrong snarled. They stopped. "Give me your names!" They stared at him. In Cantonese he said, "Give me your names and you'd better not lie or I will become very fornicating angry.""He's Tak Chou-lan," the one with pronounced buck teeth said, pointing at the other."What's your name?""Er, Lo Tup-sop, Lord. But I haven't done anyt—""Lo Tup-sop? Not Lo Tup-lin?""Oh no, Lord Superintendent, that's my brother.""Where is he?"The buck-toothed man shrugged. "I don't know. Please what's go—""Where were you going in such a hurry, Bucktooth Lo?""I'd forgotten an appointment, Lord. Oh it was very important. It's urgent and I will lose a fortune, sir, if I don't go immediately. May I now please go, Honored Lo—""No! Here's my search warrant. We're going to search and take away any papers th—"At once both men began to protest strenuously. Again Armstrong cut them short. "Do you want to be taken to the border right now?" Both men blanched and shook their heads. "Good. Now, where's Thomas K. K. Lim?" Neither answered so Armstrong stabbed his finger at the younger of the two men. "You, Mr. Bucktooth Lo! Where's Thomas K. K. Lim?" "In South America, Lord," Lo said nervously. "Where?""I don't know, sir, he just shares the office. That's his fornicating desk." Bucktooth Lo waved a nervous hand at the far corner. There was a messy desk and a filing cabinet and a phone there. "I've done nothing wrong, Lord. Foreigner Lim's a stranger from the Golden Mountain. Fourth Cousin Tak here just rents him space, Lord. Foreigner Lim just comes and goes as it pleases him and is nothing to do with me. Is he a foul criminal? If there's anything wrong I don't know anything about it!""Then what do you know about the thieving of funds from the CARE program?" "Eh?" Both men gaped at him."Informers have given us proof you're all thieving charity money that belongs to starving women and children!" At once both began protesting their innocence. "Enough! The judge will decide! You will go to headquarters and give statements." Then he switched back into English once more. "Sergeant, take them back to headquarters. Corporal, let's st—" "Honored sir," Bucktooth Lo began in halting, nervous English, "if I may to talk, in office, plees?" He pointed at the inner, equally untidy and cluttered office. "All right."Armstrong followed Lo, towering over him. The man closed the door nervously and began talking Cantonese quickly and very quietly. "I don't know anything about anything criminal, Lord. If something's amiss it's those other two fornicators, I'm just an honest businessman who wants to make money and send his children to university in America an—""Yes. Of course. What did you want to say to me privately before you go down to police headquarters?"The man smiled nervously and went to the desk and began to unlock a drawer. "If anyone's guilty it's not me, Lord. I don't know anything about anything." He opened the drawer. It was filled with used, red, 100-dollar notes. They were clipped into thousands. "If you'll let me go, Lord…" He grinned up at him, fingering the notes. Armstrong's foot lashed out and the drawer slammed and caught Lo's fingertips and he let out a howl of pain. He tore the drawer open with his good hand. "Oh oh oh my fornic—"Armstrong shoved his face close to the petrified Chinese. "Listen, you dogmeat turd, it's against the law to try to bribe a policeman and if you claim your fingers're police brutality I'll personally grind your fornicating Secret Sack to mincemeat!"He leaned back against the desk, his heart pounding, sickness in his throat, enraged at the temptation and sight of all that money. How easy it would be to take it and pay his debts and have more than enough over to gamble on the market and at the races, and then to leave Hong Kong before it was too late.So easy. So much more easy to take than to resist—this time or all the other thousand times. There must be 30, 40,000 in that drawer alone. And if there's one drawer full there must be others and if I lean on this bastard he'll cough up ten times this amount.Roughly he reached out and grabbed the man's hand. Again the man cried out. One fingertip was mashed and Armstrong thought Lo would lose a couple of fingernails and have plenty of pain but that was all. He was angry with himself that he had lost his temper but he was tired and knew it was not just tiredness. "What do you know about Tsu-yan?"