Page 47 - Brokenclaw - John Gardner

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is good evidence that ole Brokenfoot Lee was also there. He showed himself,

as if on purpose, both times. More, we can put ole Billy Bob at the same place
on the night he did the disappearing act.’
‘And the other two?’ Bond had a feeling that this was all too easy.
James Bond OO7 - printing disabledMcGregor, petty officer James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled James Bond OO7 - printing disabled
‘Frankie
James Bond OO7 - printing disabledfirst class, and James Joseph Jepson III,
lieutenant?’
‘If that’s who they were – are – do we know if they’re . . . ?’
‘Alive? Oh, it’s are, okay. Those people’re still alive and breathing. Those
last two particular gentlemen, Jepson and McGregor, were heavily into that

most dangerously addictive of beasts, gambling. They spent far too much time,
mostly independently, at an illegal gaming house known as the Coc-Chai. Both
there on the separate nights they went AWOL. Evidence was highly stacked on
the pair of them taking it on the lam, as they used to say in the gangster movies,
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because they were in hock to the Coc-Chai, their messmates, their families and,
in Jepson’s case, one of Lee’s moneylenders.’
‘And Mr Lee is the driving force behind the Coc-Chai?’
Rushia nodded. ‘Sure is. One hundred fifty per cent.’

‘So, we have a tenuous link between Brokenclaw and the missing experts.’
M’s hand slapped palm down on the desk top, landing with a thump which
imparted irritation with more immediacy than words. The action was so
sudden and unexpected that both Bond and Rushia turned sharply towards him.

‘Tenuous then. But not now,’ M snapped. ‘Commander Rushia, I think we
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should have some food brought in and then invite the sixth missing Lords
technician to dine with us. I’m sure she’ll make Captain Bond here sit up, take
notice, and also begin to take the whole of this business seriously.’

‘If you say so, Admiral. Aye aye, sir.’ Rushia hauled himself out of his chair
and strode over to the desk. He was a man, Bond considered, who could never
merely walk. Rushia strode, great loping steps full of purpose. He was
reminded of horny-handed men following long gone horse-drawn ploughs.

‘It’ll be dinner for four, in the C-in-C’s day cabin,’ Rushia spoke into a red
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telephone. ‘And would you be good enough to ask Lieutenant-Commander Man
Song Hing to step up here. Good.’ He replaced the handset. ‘Wanda’ll be right
up, sir.’ Then turning to Bond, his craggy face broke into a smile which made

him look a good deal younger than his years. ‘Wanda’s quite a gal. She’ll stir
your juices for sure, Cap’n Bond.’
‘Captain Bond’s juices have been stirred far too often in the past for my

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