LITMIR.BIZ

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Gold? Secret Documents? . . ."

      This did not seem to bother the cultured manners of Greenstreet-Brown in the least. "There is no, what was the word? Ah, yes, angle. Let us say that I represent a very rich, and somewhat eccentric client, who does strange things, and who pays excellent wages for services rendered. I assure you, Mr. Hazzard, there is nothing illegal, immoral, or, as you put it, fishy about this in the least."

      Hazzard looked across the desk, straight into the eyes of Brown. There had to be something else, things just did not happen this way. "Just take these beads to Saigon, nothing else?" he asked.

      Greenstreet-Brown returned the steady gaze. "Nothing else," he said smoothly.

      Hazzard sat back in his chair, put his hand up to rub his chin, and studied the well-dressed Mr. John Brown. Here was a man offering an almost unbelievable proposition. The way he looked Hazzard in the eye when he spoke, made him either a very honest man, or a lunatic. Hazzard stopped to dwell upon the possibility of Brown being a little deranged.

      "I can't figure out yet who, but one of us is crazy," said Hazzard.

      Mr. Brown smiled, and Hazzard could see that Greenstreet-Brown was sure that he was not the one who was crazy.

      "Who do I deliver the beads to?" asked Hazzard. "If I accept the job."

      "Sorry Mr. Hazzard, but you will find that out only if, and when you agree to deliver the beads."

      John Brown was also thinking. Hazzard was a suspicious, but honest man. Talk alone would not convince him to deliver the beads, but Brown knew other things. He knew about the unpaid rent, the many bills, the lack of clients. He opened his brief case again, took out two long fat envelopes and laid them on the desk. Then, once again in a calm, matter-of-fact voice, he spoke.

      "Here are two envelopes. One contains five thousand American dollars, the other contains a like sum in Japanese yen. As a retainer, you may have your choice of either envelope."

      Hazzard picked up the envelopes, one after the other, and examined their contents. The money was there, just as Mr. Brown said it was. Two hundred and fifty 20 dollar bills in one envelope, and one hundred and eighty 10 thousand yen notes in the other, and it was real money. He reached out, took the beads in one hand, and holding an envelope of money in the other, he mentally weighed them against each other. He could still smell a rat somewhere in the deal, but he could not put his finger on just exactly what it was that kept trying to warn him. After the workout in the alley, maybe he was just being overcautious.

      "All right, Mr. John Brown, or whoever you are, I'll play your silly game, but I'm warning you, no tricks. This deal still has a fishy smell, in fact a great big fishy smell. Nobody goes around offering this much money to deliver packages unless there is something more to it than meets the eye, but I'm going to play along until I find out what that something is." He pushed one envelope back across the desk toward Brown. "I'll take the yen, if you don't mind. Now, who do I deliver the beads to?"

      Mr. Brown took the envelope and placed it back in the brief case. "The person's name is Ling Ling Yung."

      "Ling Ling Yung?" Hazzard smiled. "The name is almost as weird as the whole crazy idea."

      Out of the brief case came another envelope as Brown explained, "Here are your tickets and travel instructions, Mr. Hazzard. You will follow these instructions to the letter without any deviations."

      "This is getting more like the army every minute. I'm not altogether overly pleased at your manner," quipped Hazzard as he took the envelope. "Aren't you getting a little free with the orders?"

      "Need I remind you, Mr. Hazzard," said the cold Greenstreet voice. "I have just purchased ten thousand dollars worth of rights to give you orders."

      There was a dramatic pause while Brown allowed this to sink in. Hazzard met the cold eyes with a sheepish grin. He would play it any way that Brown wanted it, at least until he discovered the angle. Then we would see what we would see.

      Brown went on speaking, "You will fly to Taipei, Formosa the day after tomorrow. From there you will board a coastal steamer, the "Queen Wilhelmina III," I believe it is called, which will take you to Saigon by way of Hong Kong. Everything you need is in the envelope, including letters to the various embassies of the countries involved which will enable you to acquire the proper visas for travel."

      While Brown had been talking, Hazzard had been examining the contents of the envelope. Now he looked up and said, "There's no return ticket."

      "That will be furnished to you at the other end of your journey—when and if you deliver the beads."

      Everything seemed reasonable except the word 'if.' Well, that was something to think about in Saigon.

      "Okay, Mr. Brown, you've got yourself a deal. There's just one more thing."

      "Yes?"

      "How do I find this Ting-a-ling-yung character?"

      The look in Brown's eyes said that the jest at the name was not funny. "Just arrive in Saigon. It will not be necessary for you to find anyone. You will be contacted. The person who says to you: 'There is terror in the bamboo only for the wicked,' will be Ling Ling Yung."

      Hazzard repeated the strange phrase out loud, "There is terror in the bamboo only for the wicked . . ." "It is from an almost forgotten Oriental proverb inscribed on the wall of an ancient temple in the jungles of Indochina," explained Brown. "The complete proverb reads: 'There is terror in the bamboo only for the wicked, the good shall find only peace."

      More mystery. It was beginning to take on the flavor of a Fu Man Chu novel. But to Hazzard ten thousand dollars was still ten thousand dollars, and as far as he was concerned, he had just become the highest paid delivery boy in history.

      "And how do I get in touch with you, Mr. Brown?" asked Hazzard.

      The brief case snapped shut and Greenstreet-Brown was rising ponderously to his feet. "It will not be necessary to get in touch with me. You have all the information necessary to complete this small task."

      "I mean when I come back. A little matter of a five thousand dollar balance."

      Brown looked down at Hazzard and smiled his best Greenstreet smile. "Do not worry Mr. Hazzard," he said in his best Greenstreet voice, "I shall contact you immediately, when and if you return."

      There it was again, the 'if.'

      Brown turned and strode magnificently toward the door. Hazzard sat spellbound. It was just like the movies. For a moment Hazzard thought he was going to leave without another word, but Brown paused dramatically with his hand on the doorknob and turned around.

      "Mr. Hazzard, do you own a revolver?"

      "No, I don't," Hazzard lied. "It's against the law here in Japan for anyone except the police to have hand guns. Why do you ask?"

      "Oh, nothing at all. Just a passing thought. Oh, yes, one other thing. The box that the beads came in. You may take it apart and examine it if you wish. It is not even necessary to take the box with you. Just deliver the beads. And remember, no matter what happens to you, keep the beads upon your person at all times," he paused to smile. "Good-by, Mr. Hazzard, and have a pleasant trip," and with that he was gone, shutting the door behind him before Hazzard could say a word.

      Hazzard sat for a few minutes looking at the door through which Mr. Brown had passed, then he let his gaze fall on the box. He smiled as he thought how Mr. Brown had read his mind. It was obvious that he would think something was hidden in the box. Picking it up, he examined it, and slowly applied pressure until it snapped at the sides. It was just an ordinary wooden box, and he threw the pieces in the waste-basket. Next, the beads. Nothing unusual here either. Each bead was transparent enough to eliminate the possibility of anything being secreted in them.

      Hazzard swiveled his chair around to face the window and began to think. Everything was too mysterious, too simple, and the price was too high. Something was definitely wrong, and there was only one way to find out, go along with the instructions until he came across it. He began to think over everything Brown had said. Two times

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