“Catching a boat,” she said as she steered him into the crowd that was heading for the Star Ferry.
It was at that exact moment that Booth Stallings, whose life study had been terrorism, came to a profound and utter understanding of his chosen topic. He even settled on a definition, which, although not particularly original, was immensely satisfying. Terrorism, he decided, was that which terrifies. The headline for his soon-to-be-printed obituary seemed to write itself: Terror Expert Slain By Ex-Secret Service Terrorist.
Normally, the labored irony would have made him chuckle or at least smile. But he did neither because of the new wave of fear and terror that rolled over him as he realized with absolute certainty that he would never make it back to Kowloon. Not alive anyhow, he decided. And dead doesn’t much count.
Artie Wu and Otherguy Overby stood on tiptoe on the green iron bench in the park between the Prince’s Building and the courthouse and watched Stallings and Georgia Blue lose themselves in the crowd heading for the ferry.
“Well,” Wu said, almost approvingly, “she made it.”
“Told you she would.”
“We listened to you, Otherguy — Quincy and I.”
“The Hong Kong cops wouldn’t.”
“They’re only trying to avoid a massacre,” said Wu as he stepped down from the park bench, frowning and puzzled. Overby also stepped down. “But why the ferry?” Wu asked. “She must know it’s a floating death trap.”
“Well, that’s his problem now, isn’t it?” Otherguy Overby said. “That fucking Durant’s.”
As the Star Ferry pulled out, Georgia Blue and Booth Stallings stood outside the enclosed first-class section, their backs to the rail. Georgia Blue was on Stallings’ left, her hand down in her shoulder bag, the bag still pressed against his side.
“Artie set me up?” she asked, her eyes jumping from passenger to passenger.
“Durant.”
She didn’t seem surprised as she glanced quickly at her watch. “This is what you do, Booth. You count to sixty, very slowly and just loud enough to let me hear you. When you reach sixty you hand me that nice new attaché case.”
She glanced at him briefly and resumed her vigil, smiling at the surprise that had splashed across his face. “That was about the worst switch I ever saw,” she said.
“I thought I was pretty good.”
“You’re an amateur,” she said, turning the noun into an epithet.
“Now start counting.”
When Stallings’ low soft count reached 16, a man’s voice shouted, “Look out, Georgia!”
Stallings felt himself being grabbed, pushed and then pulled back against something hard which he knew was Georgia Blue’s gun. Now out of her bag, the gun was jammed into the small of his back.
He found Durant then, no more than 15 feet away, the five-shot revolver that had been furnished by the retired Colonel held in an unwavering two-handed grip and aimed right at Stallings’ chest. The ferry passengers had also seen it and were yelling, screaming and scrambling away.
“Let go the case, Booth,” Durant said.
“If you do, you’re dead,” Georgia Blue promised Stallings in a quiet tone. He believed her promise.
“I’ll blow right through him, Georgia,” Durant said.
Stallings also believed Durant. He dropped the attaché case to the deck and kicked it toward him. Durant didn’t glance down. Stallings drew in a deep breath and turned slowly to face Georgia Blue. Her pistol was aimed at his belt. Her dollar-green eyes, steady and unblinking, were aimed at Durant over Stallings’ shoulder.
“Back again at death’s front door, right, Georgia?” Stallings said.
“Could be, Booth,” she said, not taking her eyes off Durant.
“Better make your jump.”
“You blocking for me?”
Stallings nodded.
She backed quickly to the rail. In one smooth flowing motion she was over it, holding on with her left hand, her right hand still aiming the Walther at Stallings. Her feet were braced on the edge of the deck. She bent her knees slightly and then used them to propel herself back and away from the ferry.
In four strides, Durant was at the rail. Stallings joined him. Below they could see Georgia Blue treading water. An open speedboat was bearing down on her. She waved at it. The hard-faced Chinese at its helm reduced speed.
It was then that Quincy Durant raised the revolver, aimed carefully and fired five shots at the speedboat. He hit only water, but the speedboat swerved away and sped off, leaving Georgia Blue in its wake. Stallings and Durant watched her, bobbing up and down in the water.
“How do we stop this thing?” Stallings asked.
“The ferry?”
“Christ, yes, the ferry.”
“We don’t,” Durant said.
It was then that the ferry changed course slightly. A few seconds later they could see only dirty water and nothing at all of Georgia Blue.
Chapter Forty-two
At 1:45 that afternoon Artie Wu entered his suite, accompanied by Otherguy Overby, to find Durant leaning against the wall and Booth Stallings pacing up and down the sitting room, a glass of what looked like straight Scotch whiskey in his right hand, the attache case in his left.
Wu turned to Durant and said, “What’s wrong with him?”
“He thinks we should’ve stopped the ferry.”
“To rescue Georgia?”
Durant nodded.
“You didn’t tell him?”
“How could I?” Durant said.
“Of course. You didn’t know for certain.”
“Sit the fuck down, Booth, will you?” Otherguy Overby said. “The cops fished her out.”
Stallings stopped pacing and turned quickly to face Overby. “She didn’t drown?”
Overby grunted. “Do fish drown?”
“Where is she?” Stallings said.
“In jail,” Overby said. “Where the hell’d you think she’d be?”
Artie Wu went over to Stallings and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Booth. Please.”
Stallings sat down in an easy chair, the attaché case on his lap, the dark drink still in his right hand. He looked up at Wu who was staring down at him with an extremely gentle expression. “Let’s have a beer, Otherguy,” Wu said.
“Sure,” said Overby and went to the room refrigerator.
“All of us, Booth, are very fond of Georgia,” Wu said. “Some of us, at one time or other, have been even more than fond of her. Therefore, we wouldn’t do anything to her that she didn’t deserve.”
“Unless we had to,” Overby said, handing beers to Wu and Durant.
“It was Otherguy who thought she’d make it past the cops,” Wu said and took a swallow of his beer. “I didn’t. It was Quincy who suspected she’d use the ferry and make the jump. Again, I didn’t think so. But when you two headed for the ferry, I went to the Hong Kong police — the red-faced man, did you notice him?”
Stallings nodded.
“And suggested that he send a police launch after the ferry. Which he did. The reason we’re so late is that Otherguy and I had to find Georgia a lawyer. A solicitor, actually.”
“The first thing he wanted to talk about was money,” Overby said.
“What about extradition to Manila?” Stallings said.
“He’ll try to delay it.”
“What about bail?” Stallings said.
“I don’t think so,” Wu said.
Overby grinned. “If she got bail, it’d be goodbye, Georgia.”
Durant left the wall and went over to Stallings. “It’s over, Booth. All over.”
Stallings nodded.
“Except for one thing,” Durant said. “Are you sure you gave her the right envelope?”
Stallings thought about it. “Christ, I don’t know. I was getting nervous in the bank. But I think so. I sure as hell hope so.”