Kwo Han sat and stared out of the window. Out across the wide lawns beyond the sprawling hacienda the lush vegetation of Yucatan spread for miles into the hazy distance. At the back of his mind was the thought that he might have to leave Mexico long before he had intended. The possibility annoyed Kwo Han. He had taken a liking to the place. In his life he had travelled extensively, to many different countries. Of them all Mexico, left an impression on him. Especially this corner of Yucatan, with its pleasant climate and the availability to the Caribbean and America. One day he would have to find a permanent base for himself, and here would have suited him. But if things went wrong for him now that would be out of the question. He considered the money he’d invested here. The plantation, where he was now, with its flourishing fields. It would be a shame if he had to give it all up. Kwo Han slammed his fist down onto the desk top in anger. No. He would not give it up, at least not without a fight.
The door opened and Sung Shan came into the room. There was an inner satisfaction to be had, Kwo Han realised, when he looked on Sung Shan’s suffering. Shan, faithful-to-death, as any Tong member had to be, took his recent failure extremely personally. Of all the Tong men in Han’s employ, Sung Shan was by far the best, and in all his years he had never once made a mistake. Until now. Had it been any other man Han would have killed him on the spot. But Sung Shan was special, and Han knew he would never find another so capable. He had realised that to let Sung Shan live was the best thing he could do. Shan would be grateful and he would also be aware that his continued existence depended on his future performance. There would also be the determination to serve with even stronger devotion.
‘Master Han,’ Sung Shan said.
‘I have been considering the events that led up to the American’s arrival here. If that fool Ruger had made certain of the American’s death I would not now have the complications that are bothering me.’
Sung Shan regarded Han in silence. He wasn’t sure what was expected of him at this moment in time. He was also held back by a cautionary reluctance to say anything that might anger Kwo Han.
‘It has occurred to me, Shan, that now the gold is in my possession and the two representatives of the American syndicate are here, Mr. Ruger’s presence is superfluous.’ Kwo Han stood up and walked slowly to where Shan waited. ‘Let us face facts, Sung Shan. Ruger has proved, by the killing of his own former colleagues, that he is not a man to be trusted. He is also a man of extremely reckless actions as has been proved by his failure to kill the American, Brand. Such a man is dangerous. He could cause a great deal of harm at a time when too much has already gone wrong. I would not wish for such a thing to happen. Mr. Ruger is ruled by his greed for wealth, and such men cannot be given too much freedom. It would be wise, I think, if he was rendered harmless.’
Sung Shan nodded briefly. He knew he had been given a command. The matter did not have to be spelled out for him. He had realised Kwo Han’s train of thought from the moment the Master had started to speak. As he turned and left the study, closing the door quietly behind him, Sung Shan smiled to himself. Kwo Han had offered him a chance to make a small redemption. He would not fail the Tong Master this time.
Chu was waiting for him in the hallway outside the study. Sung Shan lifted his hand in a quick gesture and Chu fell in behind him. Sung Shan led the way across the hall and up the wide stairs to the next floor. He moved swiftly along a corridor until he was outside a certain door. Turning to Chu he spoke a few words. Chu reached inside his clothing and drew out a small, razor-sharp hatchet, the traditional weapon of a Tong killer. He passed it to Shan, who held the weapon out of sight as he turned and opened the door.
Harvey Ruger glanced up as Shan entered. He was slumped in a seat by the open window, sweat beading his face. A bottle of whiskey stood on the small table next to his seat and Ruger had a glass in his hand. He stared at Shan through bleary eyes.
‘Hell, it’s the big man’s errand boy.’ Ruger’s words rolled out in a slur of sound. He lifted his glass and drained it. ‘Ain’t you got anything else to do ’cept keep botherin’ me?’
Sung Shan crossed the room and stood before Ruger’s seat. He stared at the man silently until Ruger began to feel uncomfortable.
‘Cut it out, Shan,’ he grumbled. ‘Ain’t I got enough to put up with? Stuck here in this damn room because the big man downstairs don’t want anyone wandering round. Hell, it’s like bein’ in a damn cell. An’ when’s he goin’ to send them women he promised? Been so long since I had one I could start getting’ ideas about you.’
‘You have no need to worry any longer, Ruger,’ Sung Shan said. He savored every word. ‘Master Han has decided to solve the problem of your discontent. I am simply the bearer of the solution.’
Suspicion was already forming in Ruger’s mind as he raised his head. There had been something in Sung Shan’s words that unsettled him. He had no time to query the matter. As Ruger looked up Sung Shan’s hand appeared, and the keen blade of the hatchet gleamed for a fleeting instant in the bright sunlight. Then the edge of the blade passed across Harvey Ruger’s throat. It bit deep, severing everything in its path. Sung Shan stepped to one side as blood spurted from the ugly wound. He watched as Harvey Ruger died, his body sliding from the seat onto the floor, his blood spreading across the polished wood.
When it was all over Sung Shan left the room. He returned the hatchet to Chu, and gave him instructions concerning the removal of Ruger’s body. Then he made his way downstairs again to report to Kwo Han that his wish had been carried out.