Follow the Dragon (eBook)
304 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-5719-8 (ISBN)
The author spent twenty years as a banking executive, mostly in Asia and London. There were two tours in Hong Kong; he felt in many ways the most interesting and exciting assignments. Certainly a great deal of the story, Follow the Dragon, results from real experience in the colony. Two other fiction projects are in progress, both in south China and related to true events in WWII. The author and his wife live in Houston. Among other things, he is a long time member of the Asia Hands Society of New York and the Historical Novel Society. His website is jwdbooks.com.
ATTEND HIS HONG KONG FUNERAL THEN UNCOVER HIS SECRETS Follow the Dragon, an historical novel of British Hong Kong, hurtles from true events in south China during WWII to thirty-five years later in the colorful British colony. In 1980 Jake Salter returns to Hong Kong for his father's funeral and vows to unearth a problem cryptically hinted in their last phone call. Jake finds secret WWII journals with his dad's personal wartime history: the British SOE's Operation Remorse and the British Army Aid Group the BAAG. The enlightening entries include saving the life of Commander M.T. Kwan. Kwan, now an elderly billionaire called the Dragon, convinces Jake to step in for his deceased father to help confront an existential threat, resulting in Jake risking his life on an outlying island during a typhoon and facing a dogged Royal Hong Kong Police Inspector's related investigation. Jake and Kwan realize their family names and fortunes may encounter monumental disaster as his dad's cryptic problem is revealed.
Chapter One
September 1980. Late Thursday night —
The British Crown Colony of Hong Kong
The news of his father’s death had killed his interest in food and drink during the long flight. But as the aircraft approached Hong Kong, Jake Salter decided he needed a bracer to help get him through the coming events. He took a sip of the whisky and stared out the oval porthole of the 747 into the black night. A scattering of distant lights outlined the south China coast.
Jake had not returned that often since he left for university, almost eighteen years ago; undergraduate, graduate school and then the hard slog of working his way up to a partnership in a Los Angeles investment firm. He followed in his father’s vocation, only it was 7200 miles away from home.
He could not get their last phone conversation out of his mind. Only a week ago his aging father had hinted of a problem but had then suggested they postpone discussion until later. No, not health, he had said. But just three days later Jake had received news that his father had died at home… a heart attack, they said. Jake booked the next flight out of L.A. This return to Hong Kong would be a chance to come to terms with the loss… and to explore unanswered questions.
In anticipation of landing, the interior lights brightened in the cabin. Jake’s seatmate stirred from a nap, accepted a glass of water from the steward, and then stowed his briefcase for the landing. Lean and wearing the dress blues of the Royal Hong Kong Police Force, Inspector Andrew Chu looked fit, his black hair cropped short, with a hint of gray. Chu was probably in his late thirties, just a couple of years older than Jake.
Chu looked at Jake. “I guess I nodded off.”
“Wish I had,” Jake replied. His dark thoughts and grief had kept him from sleeping. “Another half hour to go, I think.”
They had gotten to know each other during the long flight, both having been born and raised in the Colony. Inspector Chu told Jake that he had been tagged to represent Hong Kong in an international law enforcement conference in Los Angeles. They had spoken only in Cantonese during their sporadic conversations, which was good for Jake, who knew that he was rusty after living in California for so long.
During the long trip Chu had treated Jake with a couple of inside stories of police investigations, especially reprising when he was undercover with one of the ancient criminal organizations, the Chinese Triads.
Jake couldn’t match the crime stories of Chu, but he contributed tales of life in Los Angeles. In a wealth management firm, Jake had many experiences with colorful personalities and celebrities, especially in the entertainment industry. Jake had also responded to the inspector’s curiosity about his background.
“My mum was half Cantonese and half white Californian. But she always spoke in Cantonese to me, and I sometimes felt like a Chinese in a European body.” He had half-smiled at Inspector Chu, then revisited a memory. “One woman I knew in L.A. was an actress from Hong Kong. She thought of me as a colonial Brit. I didn’t tell her I spoke Cantonese, so I overheard more than I was supposed to when with her Chinese friends.” He chuckled. “Kind of like being invisible.”
Chu had said, “That could be a real asset for me, a cop.”
True, Jake thought. He knew that he looked like his father, a tall occidental Brit, but he also understood that he occupied two worlds.
The pilots began their approach to Kai Tak, the old airport on the mainland side of spectacular Victoria Harbour. Jake was always mesmerized by Hong Kong from the air. Tonight it was clear and dark. He could just see the outline of islands and hills in their opaque greens. The bright lights of the skyscrapers on both sides of the harbor were creating their magic.
The aircraft came in from the western approach, passing over Possession Point, the first settlement of the original British arrivals. As they descended over Victoria Harbour, they were already at a lower elevation than the Peak on Hong Kong Island, visible outside Jake’s porthole. Quickly, as they dropped farther, they were over Kowloon on the mainland. Once in position, the pilot made a sharp starboard turn, the tilting passengers no doubt feeling like they were at the same level as apartment buildings just below. The tip of the sharply dipping wing appeared close enough to gather the clean laundry hanging breezily outside an open, lighted window in a mid-rise. Jake heard a couple of gasps behind him.
The 747 leveled out over the peculiar oasis of the old Walled City of Kowloon, almost brushing the jungle of antennas reaching from the haphazard rooftops. Then the craft made a sharp descent for a tight, short approach and a touchdown on Runway 13, the narrow, manmade peninsula into Kowloon Bay. Jake remembered the old passengers’ moniker of ‘Kai Tak Heart Attack.’ One rating put it as the sixth most dangerous airport in the world.
The plane slowed and then u-turned onto the taxiway for the unhurried trip to the Main Terminal. Jake and Andrew exchanged cards. “I hope you’ll get in touch if you come back to L.A. sometime,” Jake said in Cantonese.
Chu shook his hand. “Count on it. Sorry about your father. I hope your visit goes as well as can be expected.”
“Thanks,” said Jake, and he pulled his carry-on — just enough for a quick trip — from the upper bin. It occurred to him that this might be his final visit, as his father was his last blood relative in the Colony.
At Immigration, Jake used his British passport rather than his American for no reason other than the shorter line for UK citizens. As a child in Hong Kong, he had thought of himself as British. He had been raised as a colonial Brit but had never lived in England itself. He had no living relatives in the UK, his family had only visited there a few times for holidays. So, with an American mother, Jake had two passports.
The line moved fast, and he stepped up to the Immigration booth with his carry-on.
“Purpose of visit?” asked the uniformed Chinese officer in English.
“Father’s funeral,” Jake replied in Cantonese, matter-of-factly.
“Oh,” said the officer, showing surprise at how well this gwei-lo — foreign devil — spoke Cantonese. Jake watched him look down again at the passport — Birthplace: Hong Kong. “Welcome home,” he said, stamped the page without delay, and added “Sorry for your loss.”
It was very late. Almost midnight. It felt good to be walking after the long flight. The familiar old terminal was warmly hospitable. Jake walked out to the pickup area to a car he had known since childhood, an old, pristine burgundy Mercedes. Inside, in the driver’s seat, was his old friend, the now gray-haired Lucien Han. The window was rolled down.
“Lucien,” said Jake.
“Jake.” Lucien got out of the car, his face almost paternal with pleasure, and gave Jake a bear hug.
And then, as always, Jake slid his bag into the back seat and got in beside it. He reached forward and gripped Lucien’s shoulder. Lucien had loved his father almost as much as he had. “How are you,” Jake said in Cantonese. Lucien had been his dad’s driver since World War II.
“Jake. Good to see you,” he said. “It’s been a while though. How long this time?”
“About eighteen months, I think. Too long, as usual.”
“So sorry about your father.” He looked to see if he could pull out into airport traffic. “You know your dad missed you over those long periods.”
This was confusing to Jake, who hadn’t felt fully welcomed by his father for a long time. But he didn’t want to discuss that with anyone. Not yet. He did want to find answers on this visit, thinking again that perhaps this would be his last trip to Hong Kong.
The faint citrus scent of the car’s air freshener brought back good memories. “So what’s the plan?” Jake asked.
“Nothing pleasant, Jake. I’ll take you to your father’s tonight. It’s been freshened up for you. I’ll be picking you up about 11 in the morning. Tomorrow is the cremation. It’s in Kowloon. Same crematorium as your mother. And then the Memorial Service is all planned for Monday.”
His mother’s death. Close to nineteen years ago now. His mother had pushed him to go to California rather than to England.
“It’s going to be just you and me and Stuart at the cremation,” Lucien continued. Stuart MacDonald was his father’s wartime British Army colleague and co-founding business partner at MacDonald & Salter Investments. “But the service on Monday will be a full house.”
Jake sank down into the comfortable leather seat. Lucien had thoughtfully pushed the front passenger seat forward to accommodate Jake’s long legs. They drove into the Kowloon traffic, which was a cacophony even at this time of night and took the Cross Harbour Tunnel toward his father’s flat on Hong Kong Island. It was Thursday night… or rather early Friday morning, Jake thought. He should book his return flight pretty...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 20.8.2024 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Historische Romane |
| ISBN-13 | 979-8-3509-5719-8 / 9798350957198 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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