After going through customs Tam leaned against the terminal wall in the Munich airport and took out the letter of instructions from White Paper Fan. He was tired after the long flight from Hong Kong and couldn’t remember the name of the hotel where he was supposed to stay. He unfolded the letter and saw the name: Maritim Hotel, Goethe Strasse 7, Munich. Putting the letter back in the inside pocket of his jacket and walked over to the luggage area and found his bag still circulating on the near empty carousel. Bag in hand he exited the terminal, found a taxi, threw his bag into the back seat and got in. He asked the driver if he knew Maritim Hotel on Goethe Strasse. The driver nodded and drove off. Tam began to watch the city flash by, but his lack of sleep caught up and he closed his eyes, and his head drooped.
The cab stopped suddenly. Tam’s head lifted and he saw that they were in the portico of a large, opulent, hotel. The driver turned to Tam and said, “Hotel Maritim, Herr.” Tam took some of the German money out of the envelope in his pocket and handed it to the driver. “Take what I owe you. I don’t know about German money.” The driver took some bills and gave the rest back. Suddenly the rear taxi door was opened by a very large man dressed in a bright red uniform covered with so much gold braid and gold buttons that Tam didn’t whether he should salute him or what. “Welcome to Hotel Maritim, Sir.”
Tam climbed out of the taxi and the red uniform reached for his bag. Tam said, “No, no, I will carry that myself, please.” The door-man nodded, smiled and led him through double glass doors which rose at least four feet above his head, and ushered him into an elegant hotel lobby. Tam looked around amazed at the polished, brown marble floors, the dozens of potted trees and flowers and huge golden chandelier overhead. Confused by the contrast of his run down apartment in Hong Kong he was used to, he wondered if he had read the hotel name correctly in his instructions. At the registration desk a well dressed clerk said, “Good evening, Sir, may I have your passport, please.”
He flipped open the passport and said, “Ah, Mr. Stratton, if you would please fill out this registration card, I’ll be right back.”
As he turned to leave the desk and walk toward a closed door, Tam responded, “Hey, don’t take my passport away,” but the clerk kept going and disappeared through the door. Concerned, Tam looked around to see if there were any security people hovering near by paying attention to him. Seeing none, he wondered if he should climb over the counter and try to get his passport back, but then the door behind the counter opened again and another man, with a white carnation in his buttonhole, followed by the first clerk, approached the desk. The man with the passport in his hand looked at Tam and said, “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Stratton, I am Tony Sadler, the manager of this establishment.” His English was excellent, with a slight trace of German. “We are so glad to have you with us and please let me know, personally, if we can do anything for you. Here is your passport, the key to you suite and a brochure of our hotel and one about Munich. I hope you have a pleasant stay in our lovely city. Oh, I almost forgot. This envelope is from Dr. Yang.” Turning toward the lobby he punched a brass bell on the counter and in a loud voice said “bell-man!”
“Just give your luggage to the bell-boy. He will show you to your suite, and thank you again for staying with us.”
His head whirling with the fancy surroundings and the courtesy of the manager, Tam rather meekly allowed the bell-man to take his battered bag and lead him to the elevator.
Waking up slowly Tam wasn’t sure where he was for a moment. Getting up, he sat on the edge of the bed and worked on getting his bearings. Let’s see, I am in Munich, Germany, in a fancy hotel, with free Gin in a mini-bar, and the note from Dr. Yang said that there would be someone in a black BMW outside the hotel entrance to pick me up at 10:00 this morning. Looking at the bedside clock he saw that it was almost eight o’clock. Temped to crawl back into the bed like he’d never slept in before, he decided rather to take a shower and perhaps go down to the lobby and see if he could find something to eat before he went to see this Dr. Yang.
A few minutes after eight, Tam pushed open the huge glass doors of the hotel and saw a large black BMW under the portico, engine running and a tall slender Asian man pacing back and forth beside the car. The man looked at Tam, raised his arms in a gesture that clearly said, it’s about time, and walked around to the driver’s side and got in. Tam hurried to the car and got in the passengers side. Tires squealed and the driver, without looking at Tam, said in broken English, “Dr. Yang no like wait,” and they rushed out of the hotel drive. Silence was sound of choice on the twenty minute drive through the city, until they stopped in front of a large, multi-storied building marked München Gemeinschaft Krankenhaus. The driver, still looking straight ahead said, “Go front desk, ask where Dr. Yang, hurry.”
Tam left the BMW with the non-conversive driver, slammed the car door, and walked laughing into the hospital.
The antiseptic building smelled and looked like every hospital Tam had even been in, even though he had usually been in them smelling and looking from the bed of a gurney. At a counter marked Informationen he asked where he could find Dr. Yang. Following the direction given to him he walked on the worn linoleum through the dull green corridors until the back letters on the glass panel of a door said, Chen Yang, M.D., PhD. - - - Director of the Yang Life Institute. Tam knocked lightly.
A high pitched voice from within loudly responded to the knocking, “Come in Mr. Tam. You are late!”
Seated behind a cluttered desk sat a white coat covering a slender body that looked as if it would snap in two if a strong wind blew against it. Dr. Yang’s oversize head was completely bald and shined as a polished knob of teak. Large eyes peered at Tam through heavy glasses and the skin on his face looked more like old parchment.
“Sit down. I understand from my old friend, White Paper Fan, that this assignment for the Tong may be your least assignment. If this is so, and I have no reason to doubt it, I presume that you will do everything in you possibly can to complete your little project. The emerald is the key to my new healing hospital and I must have that stone soon so the hospital will open on time.”
Tam interrupted, “Why do you need a gem in order to open your hospital, or whatever you call it?”
“It’s really none of your business, Mr. Tam, but since you ask I will tell you. The miracle healing process that I have spent my lifetime researching and perfecting is based on the ancient understanding of the healing properties of a mineral called beryl that when colored green by trace amounts of chromium and sometimes vanadium is commonly known as emerald. Emerald brings life, nourishment, and healing to the physical body. It floods the physical body with the green ray’s life-giving energy and gradually neutralizes the disharmonies that cause disease. If enough emerald is worn, it also works on healing the mental and emotional causes of physical illness. By strengthening your physical body’s weakest link, emerald uplifts, strengthens, and vitalizes your body as a whole, making it easier for you to open to higher states of consciousness. Therefore the Wittelsbach Emerald will set a new standard for healing in my Yang Life Institute and through out the world. That’s all you need to know. Just get that emerald for me, or you will wish your had remained in Honk Kong. I might add that even though White Paper fan has entrusted you with the necessary documentation and papers to bid on the emerald at the auction in Geneva, I really don’t trust you, and I have decided that there will be someone around you at all times keeping my eye on you. Do you understand, Mr. Tam?”
Tam wasn’t easily frightened, but this man sent shivers down his spine. He wasn’t sure if it was how self assured he was, his obvious relation to the Tong, or those ebony eyes that seemed to be dead yet seemed to burn straight through him. Tam shuttered.
“Now go back to Geneva, Mr. Tam, and remember this old Chinese proverb: Not only can water float a boat, it can sink it also. Leave quickly; I have much work still to do.”