Read Online Hong Kong by Stephen Coonts - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephen Coonts
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Americans, Thrillers, Espionage, Political, Conspiracies, china, Grafton; Jake (Fictitious character)
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people standing there waiting. He picked up four men and a woman in this manner, then found a quiet place to park near the old Kai Tak airport. These people knew him, knew his real name, knew the risks he took, and he trusted them with his life. Since they literally held his life in their hands, they also trusted him.
Today this "gang of six" discussed the current situation, the public anger at the failure of the Bank of the Orient, the predictable resentment against the PLA for shooting into an unsuspecting crowd.
"Is this the spark? Is now the hour?"
They debated the question hotly.
To overthrow the Communists, Wu Tai Kwong had argued for years, two things must come to pass. The great mass of people must be aroused against the government, and the army must refuse to fight the people.
"There are things still to be done," Hu Chiang argued. "We are almost ready, but not quite."
"The police know far too much," the woman replied. Alas, keeping the existence of a large subversive organization a total secret was impossible. People whispered, some tried to sell information to the authorities, others wanted to betray their colleagues and the movement for reasons that ran the gamut of human emotions. "There are too many leaks, too many people talking. We must wait no longer. Every day we wait the danger grows, yet we grow only marginally stronger." We are bribing the police," one man pointed out when his turn to
talk came. "Every day the number of people who want money grows. It is inevitable that someone will take a bribe and turn us in ... if they haven't called Beijing already. We must act now!"
Wu waved them into silence. "There is another factor. The Americans suspect that the American consul, Cole, has moved money into Hong Kong. They are trying to trace the money, find out where it went. China Bob Chan is dead, but the trail is not cold. If we wait too long, the Americans may decide to tell Beijing what they know ... or suspect."
"So that is the decision?" Hu Chiang demanded.
"I will not make the decision," Wu told them. "We will vote. Now."
Only Hu Chiang voted to wait.
"Then it is decided," Wu told them. Even Hu looked relieved that the waiting was over, he thought.
"The longest journey begins with the first step. Let us begin."
As he started the van to drive away, Wu remarked, "We must win or die."
"Win or die," they murmured.
The house where the Buckinghams lived perched precariously on the side of the mountainous spine of Hong Kong Island, just below the Victoria Peak tram station. From it one had a magnificent view of the central business district, Kowloon, and the harbor.
The roof of the building was flat. Paved with tile and equipped with lawn chairs and sun umbrellas, it made a wonderful patio on almost any day clouds did not obscure the sun. At the head of the staircase was a small room with large windows that Lin Pe, Rip's mother-in-law, used as a greenhouse.
When he got home, Rip found his wife, Sue Lin Buckingham, on the roof sitting under an umbrella, reading. He removed a cold beer from the refrigerator in the greenhouse and sagged into a lawn chair beside her. As he summed up the events of the day, his wife put down her book and listened in silence.
Sue Lin was a rarity, a highly educated Chinese woman. She had never known her father, who died before she was born. Her mother made a small fortune in fortune cookies and insisted that her daughter get an education. Sue Lin spent her teenage years at a private school
in California, then got bachelor's and master's degrees from the University of California at Berkeley.
Rip Buckingham, Australian bum and Chinese aficionado, fell for her the very first time he saw her. She had not been similarly smitten, but he persisted. Eventually he won her heart, a triumph that he still regarded as the great accomplishment of his life. She was, he thought, the most gracious lady he had ever met.
This evening she listened in silence to Rip's narrative of the
Today this "gang of six" discussed the current situation, the public anger at the failure of the Bank of the Orient, the predictable resentment against the PLA for shooting into an unsuspecting crowd.
"Is this the spark? Is now the hour?"
They debated the question hotly.
To overthrow the Communists, Wu Tai Kwong had argued for years, two things must come to pass. The great mass of people must be aroused against the government, and the army must refuse to fight the people.
"There are things still to be done," Hu Chiang argued. "We are almost ready, but not quite."
"The police know far too much," the woman replied. Alas, keeping the existence of a large subversive organization a total secret was impossible. People whispered, some tried to sell information to the authorities, others wanted to betray their colleagues and the movement for reasons that ran the gamut of human emotions. "There are too many leaks, too many people talking. We must wait no longer. Every day we wait the danger grows, yet we grow only marginally stronger." We are bribing the police," one man pointed out when his turn to
talk came. "Every day the number of people who want money grows. It is inevitable that someone will take a bribe and turn us in ... if they haven't called Beijing already. We must act now!"
Wu waved them into silence. "There is another factor. The Americans suspect that the American consul, Cole, has moved money into Hong Kong. They are trying to trace the money, find out where it went. China Bob Chan is dead, but the trail is not cold. If we wait too long, the Americans may decide to tell Beijing what they know ... or suspect."
"So that is the decision?" Hu Chiang demanded.
"I will not make the decision," Wu told them. "We will vote. Now."
Only Hu Chiang voted to wait.
"Then it is decided," Wu told them. Even Hu looked relieved that the waiting was over, he thought.
"The longest journey begins with the first step. Let us begin."
As he started the van to drive away, Wu remarked, "We must win or die."
"Win or die," they murmured.
The house where the Buckinghams lived perched precariously on the side of the mountainous spine of Hong Kong Island, just below the Victoria Peak tram station. From it one had a magnificent view of the central business district, Kowloon, and the harbor.
The roof of the building was flat. Paved with tile and equipped with lawn chairs and sun umbrellas, it made a wonderful patio on almost any day clouds did not obscure the sun. At the head of the staircase was a small room with large windows that Lin Pe, Rip's mother-in-law, used as a greenhouse.
When he got home, Rip found his wife, Sue Lin Buckingham, on the roof sitting under an umbrella, reading. He removed a cold beer from the refrigerator in the greenhouse and sagged into a lawn chair beside her. As he summed up the events of the day, his wife put down her book and listened in silence.
Sue Lin was a rarity, a highly educated Chinese woman. She had never known her father, who died before she was born. Her mother made a small fortune in fortune cookies and insisted that her daughter get an education. Sue Lin spent her teenage years at a private school
in California, then got bachelor's and master's degrees from the University of California at Berkeley.
Rip Buckingham, Australian bum and Chinese aficionado, fell for her the very first time he saw her. She had not been similarly smitten, but he persisted. Eventually he won her heart, a triumph that he still regarded as the great accomplishment of his life. She was, he thought, the most gracious lady he had ever met.
This evening she listened in silence to Rip's narrative of the
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