Chinaman’s Chance

“You’re going to have to get a maid,” Wu said.

Overby shook his head and smiled. “Nah, the kid said he’d keep things picked up and dusted. He can’t stand it when it’s not neat. Like I said, he’s not a bad kid once you get him squared away.”

McBride used his back to push open the swinging door. He was carrying four cans of beer, two in each hand. He served Durant first, then Wu, and finally Overby.

“I opened them in the kitchen,” he said, “because if I didn’t the slob here would toss his top on the floor.”

Overby grinned and nodded. “See, he likes things neat.”

Durant took a swallow of his beer, lit one of his Pall Mall cigarettes, and looked at Overby. “What about your meeting with Simms, Otherguy?”

“I called yesterday afternoon,” Overby said. “It’s set for nine Monday morning. The guy I talked to, this Chuck West, made sure that I knew it was gonna cost ten thousand bucks just to talk.”

“Jesus,” McBride said. “What kind of deal have you guys got going?”

“Interesting, Eddie,” Wu said. “Very interesting.”

“When do I get cut in?”

“As soon as we get Otherguy settled.” Wu looked at Overby. “I don t think you can do a single.”

Overby nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. I think I’d better be point man for a small syndicate.”

“Scatter it all over the Pacific,” Durant said.

Overby grinned. “Run Run, maybe?”

“Run Run would be good,” Durant said.

“Jane Arden?”

Wu smiled. “Yeah, he’d probably be impressed by Jane. Everybody else is.”

“Who else?” Overby said.

“What about Pancho Clarke?” Durant said. “Is he still working out of Bangkok or is he in jail again?”

Overby chuckled. “Nah, he’s still out.”

“That’s three,” Durant said. “You need one more.”

Overby thought for a moment. “Gyp Lucas,” he said.

Wu nodded. “Good. You’d better call them tonight.”

“All of ’em?”

“Just in case somebody checks. Simms might.”

Overby frowned. “I’ll have a little problem with Run Run.”

Durant sighed. “Tell him you’re wiring him what you owe him.”

“What about the rest of them?”

“Five hundred bucks each,” Wu said.

“And when I see Simms how much have I got to play with?” Overby said.

“Mention a million and see what happens,” Durant said.

“And just one more thing, Otherguy,” Wu said.

“What?”

“This Simms is no dummy.”

Overby smiled — a predator’s smile. “Neither am I.”

“Who’s Simms?” McBride asked.

Durant glanced at Wu, who frowned and then shrugged in a kind of acquiescence.

Durant leaned forward toward McBride, who was sitting on the long couch. Durant smiled in a curiously gentle fashion. “He’s an old friend of yours, Eddie, except that his name wasn’t Simms when you knew him.”

“What was it?” McBride said.

“The last time you saw him, you were both skimming off twenty thousand from two million and his name was Luke Childester.”

Durant watched closely as McBride’s face sagged with surprise. Wu was also staring at McBride, who now sat quite still for a moment and then absently began to stroke his taped-up left thumb. His face lost its sag and stretched itself into a tight, sullen expression that seemed to border on rage. Even Overby was staring at him now. Overby looked puzzled.

When McBride spoke, his voice was flat and almost toneless.

“It wasn’t Solly, then, was it?” he said, directing the question more to himself than to anyone else. “I mean, out there in the canyon, that wasn’t Solly’s idea, it was his. That’s the only way it makes sense. He wants it all, doesn’t he?”

“He’s got it all, Eddie,” Wu said.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. You were on the last chopper out of Saigon, right?”

McBride nodded, his face now pale and strained.

“An hour after you’d gone he had the money and was on his way out, probably by boat.”

“How do you know?”

“We know,” Wu said, and took out one of his long cigars.

“And you guys, you guys knew all the time, didn’t you?” McBride said.

“We only suspected,” Durant said.

“But you’re going into some kind of deal with him, aren’t you? You and Otherguy here.”

Wu went through the ceremony of lighting his cigar. When he had it going he looked at Durant.

“Don’t wink at each other and trade off those cute little nods,” McBride said, his voice rising. “You guys have been fucking me over so you can do a deal with him.”

Wu blew a smoke ring, a fat one. Then he looked at McBride and smiled, and there was warmth in it, even affection. “We’re not going to do a deal with him, Eddie,” Wu said, and stuck the cigar into one corner of his mouth. “We’re going to take him. We’re going to pick him clean.”