Zero Minus Ten

FOUR

A BRITISH LEGACY

M PRESSED SOME BUTTONS ON A CONTROL PANEL TO HER RIGHT. THE ROOM darkened slightly and the Kandinsky painting slid up into the ceiling. A television monitor built into the wall flashed on, revealing the logo: EurAsia Enterprises Ltd.

“EurAsia Enterprises is one of the biggest shipping corporations operating out of Hong Kong,” M said. “You’ll find all the background you need in this file.” She gestured to a manilla folder on the edge of her desk. “Briefly, I’ll give you some of the details.”

Bond took the folder but didn’t open it. He gave his full attention to M.

“The company was founded in 1850, just a few years after Hong Kong was ceded to Britain at the close of the so-called First Opium War. How much do you remember about British colonial history, 007?”

Bond cleared his throat. “In a nutshell, the war resulted from China’s refusal to open ports to the West. I believe the catalyst was an incident in which the Chinese government in Canton seized a tremendous amount of opium from British traders and destroyed it.”

“Twenty thousand pounds, to be precise,” M added. “At the time, it was worth three million sterling. Opium trading was a ghastly business, but in the early nineteenth century opium was the world’s most valuable commodity. Be that as it may, the crux of the problem was as you said—China didn’t want to trade with the West. They had reluctantly allowed Canton—they call it Guangzhou now, as you know—and Macau to become the only ports open to the West. Our East India Company had a monopoly in Guangzhou until the 1830s, but the demand for Chinese tea, as well as silk and porcelain, was overwhelming.”

“It wasn’t easy for the traders,” Bond said. “I seem to remember that they were restricted to the fringes of the city, not allowed inside …”

“That’s right,” M said. “And all business had to go through the Cohong, a guild of Chinese merchants. Corruption flourished, and these constraints encouraged dreams of a base on the southeast coast of China where traders could operate freely. There was a trade imbalance and it greatly favoured China. The balance of trade in tea alone ran six to one in China’s favour. They didn’t particularly care for anything we had to offer, except silver, perhaps. China was under the impression that she didn’t need us.”

“And that’s where the opium trade came in …”

“Precisely. The traders discovered that there was a certain faction in China that desired Indian opium, and we were in the dubious position of being able to offer it. That was how several of our largest companies came into existence over there. In retrospect, I suppose, it was a nasty business; but it suited the mercantile ethic of the time. Opium traders shrugged off these scruples and maintained that trade, and the missionaries that followed, would ultimately benefit China. Well, the Chinese government became increasingly concerned about opium. Justifiably—it was an extravagant habit that ruined minds and morals—and it caused the trade imbalance to tip in our favour. Finally, in 1839, the emperor ordered the governor of Hunan Province to go to Guangzhou and end the opium trade. The British Chief Superintendent of Trade, a man named Charles Elliot, was ordered to surrender all of the merchants’ opium.”

“And he did.”

“That’s right, and the traders watched helplessly as the Chinese destroyed the opium that was the basis of their livelihood. One thing led to another, and skirmishes began. By 1840, an expeditionary fleet had arrived in Hong Kong with a mission to obtain compensation and an apology from China for the destroyed opium, and to secure a British foothold on the China coast.”

“It was rather a one-sided war, wasn’t it?” Bond asked rhetorically.

“Yes, China was ill-prepared to deal with Britain’s warships. It all came to a temporary end in 1841 with a treaty that was never signed. The treaty promised compensation for the confiscated opium, permission for British merchants to return to Guangzhou, and the cession of Hong Kong Island to Britain. Neither side was happy with this outcome and the war continued into 1842, when the Treaty of Nanjing was finally signed and reluctantly accepted by China. The result was a hefty compensation in millions of pounds, as well as the opening of several ports to British trade.”

“And Hong Kong was officially ceded to Britain.”

“ ‘In perpetuity’ the treaty said,” M added. “Hong Kong became a British Crown Colony in 1843, and trade resumed. We don’t have to cover all of the history, but I suppose you know how we acquired Kowloon and the New Territories?”

“That was a result of the Second Opium War,” Bond replied, feeling like a schoolboy.

“Well, we prefer to call it the Second Anglo-Chinese War now,” M said with a shrug. “It was a result of a ridiculous mistake made in 1856 by Chinese officials. They boarded one of our ships, the Arrow, believing it to be a pirate vessel. A battle ensued, and another war broke out. It finally ended in 1860 with the treaty signed at the Convention of Peking. We got Kowloon with that one.”

“In perpetuity, once again,” Bond chipped in.

“Of course. Opium was officially legalized in China from then on until the start of the Second World War. China ended up making a tidy profit from the filthy substance, using it as an excuse for levying taxes. The big blunder on our part came some forty years later, when the Second Convention of Peking was held and a new treaty was signed. A larger chunk of land north of Kowloon, along with 233 surrounding islands, was leased to Britain for a ninety-nine-year term. As you know, this area became known as the New Territories.”

“Why was it not ceded in perpetuity?” asked Bond.

“Carelessness on the part of the British Foreign Secretary. He had hoped for an open-ended lease to be terminated by mutual agreement, but he ultimately agreed to the ninety-nine-year lease. I suppose that seemed like forever in 1898, when the treaty was signed.”

“And now that time has run out,” Bond mused. He recalled the historic agreement made between Great Britain and China in 1984. “Why did we agree to hand over Hong Kong and Kowloon in 1997? Why didn’t we just give up the New Territories and keep what was still legally ours?”

“Because Hong Kong and Kowloon depend on the natural resources that are derived from the New Territories. Without the New Territories’ abundance of fresh water and other utilities, Hong Kong Island would be extremely difficult to support. And, I think, there was a certain amount of guilt involved as well. Looking back, both sides felt that Hong Kong rightfully belonged to China. It was ceded under circumstances which weren’t entirely ethical. It’s a shame that everyone had to wait a hundred years to come to terms with that realization. The poor people of Hong Kong are now feeling the brunt of that mistake. After over a century of western and democratic rule, they are now faced with the prospect of life controlled by the People’s Republic of China. But enough of the history lesson—let’s get back to the topic at hand.”

M pushed a button on her desk and the picture on the monitor changed. The image of a Caucasian man appeared. He had black hair with streaks of grey, dark brown eyes, and looked to be in his late forties. His face was severe and cold.

“EurAsia Enterprises was one of the trading corporations that flourished in southeast Asia after the First Opium War. It was founded by an Englishman named James Thackeray. This is Thackeray’s great-great-grandson, the current CEO of EurAsia Enterprises. His name is Guy Thackeray.”

Bond knew very little about EurAsia Enterprises. “The company has branches all over the world?”

“Yes,” said M. “Toronto, London, New York, Tokyo, Sydney—they have a significant gold-mining operation in Western Australia—but they’re based in Hong Kong. That’s where Thackeray has lived all his life.”

“Funny,” said Bond. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“Thackeray’s not a very public person,” M said. “You can count on one hand the number of times he’s been to England. He rarely leaves Hong Kong, and if he does he only goes as far as Australia. There’s really nothing particularly sinister about the man. By all accounts he’s a perfectly respectable businessman. He’s forty-eight, never married, and lives quietly and comfortably on Victoria Peak. He was the only child and sole heir of his great-great-grandfather’s legacy, which was passed down from James Thackeray to his son, then to his grandson, and so on. Guy Thackeray became CEO of the company when he was twenty-eight.”

“What did he do before that?” Bond asked.

M chuckled. “He was a magician.”

“What?”

“He had an act that he started when he was a child,” M said. “A magic act. He performed it on floating restaurants, in nightclubs, wherever … He even had a short-lived television show in Hong Kong in the early sixties. Sleight-of-hand stuff, optical illusions, sawing women in half … you know what I mean. He gave it up once he reached his twenties and entered the family business in pursuit of a ‘real’ career. Although he was independently wealthy, I suppose he felt he must live up to the family name and all that. So he learned the business and was very good at it. After his father died, he became CEO. Never bothered with show business again. And up until now, the only black mark we had against the man is that he apparently enjoys playing high stakes mahjong in illegal betting parlours.”

“So why are we interested in him?”

“Gregory Donaldson, the lawyer who was killed in the car bomb blast, was Guy Thackeray’s solicitor,” M said with raised eyebrows.

Bond nodded thoughtfully. The picture changed, revealing a photo of Guy Thackeray with Gregory Donaldson.

“On June the 10th, Donaldson arrived in Hong Kong on an urgent mission to meet Guy Thackeray. Donaldson’s partners here in London were not privy to what it was about, only that it had something to do with the privately owned EurAsia stock. Thackeray owns 59 per cent and the rest is owned by other Board members. On June the 11th, Donaldson was killed.”

“Interesting,” Bond said.

“That’s not all,” M continued. “The two visiting Chinese officials from Beijing who were shot by the alleged British army officer were shopping at a mall owned by EurAsia Enterprises. In fact, the mall is part of the huge complex that houses the company on Hong Kong Island.”

“So they were killed at EurAsia’s corporate headquarters?”

“That’s right,” M said.

“And the floating restaurant business …”

“That bomb killed the entire Board of Directors, the chairman, and all the other executive officers of EurAsia Enterprises—everyone but Guy Thackeray. It was a company party of some kind. The chairman, a fellow named Desmond, was retiring. Guy Thackeray was there, made a speech, presented Desmond with one of those distinguished service awards, then disappeared. At first, everyone thought he had been killed in the blast as well, but he was found at EurAsia headquarters working in his office two hours later, completely oblivious to what had happened. He’s been cooperating with the local authorities in their investigation into the blast, but it’s still very early. No one has any reason to suspect he might be involved. From what I can gather, most people believe the bomb might very well have been meant for him, and to hell with the other people who were killed.”

M paused a moment then continued, “There’s one more piece of the puzzle you haven’t heard about. Three nights ago, the Hampshire Constabulary Tactical Firearms Unit busted a drug-smuggling operation in Portsmouth. Some Chinese were caught unloading a ton of heroin off a cargo ship. That ship just happened to be owned by none other than EurAsia Enterprises.”

Bond nodded. “The Chinese were Triad, I would wager.”

“You’re absolutely correct, 007,” M said. “They were all killed in the raid, but a quick investigation revealed they were part of a Triad known as the Dragon Wing Society. It’s an offshoot of the San Yee On Triad.”

Bond frowned. The San Yee On was one of the largest Triads in the world. Triads had existed in China for centuries and were the most misunderstood, most complex, and most dangerous criminal organizations to infect the modern world. Chinese Triads made the Sicilian Mafia look amateurish. They usually originated in Hong Kong, but their tentacles reached into nearly every Chinese community in the world. More formidable than the Tongs, the Triads had in the last fifty years become responsible for most of the worldwide drug trade. They also had a hand in illegal arms distribution, prostitution, gambling, illegal immigration, and other activities associated with organized crime. A Triad’s oath of loyalty was absolute, and a member would rather die than reveal any of his organization’s secrets.

“So you think that EurAsia Enterprises is involved with this Triad?” Bond asked.

“That’s what I want you to find out,” M said. “A lot of British subjects were killed the other night. At first I thought it could very well be coincidence that all the events in Hong Kong were connected with this otherwise very respectable company. But when the raid in Portsmouth occurred and we learned that the company’s ship was smuggling heroin to Triad members, that’s when we became alarmed.

“If you can, 007, I want you to find out who is behind these terrorist acts and stop them. All Britain needs is a war with China on the eve of giving back Hong Kong! And that’s what we’re going to get if the pattern keeps up. You’re to fly to Hong Kong this afternoon—there’s a flight leaving at 2:30 and it arrives tomorrow morning. They’re eight hours ahead of us, as you know. Our man in Station H will meet you at the airport, a fellow by the name of Woo. I understand he’s been with the service for years.”

“I know of him, ma’am,” said Bond. “Never met him, though.”

“He’ll be your guide and contact. How’s your Chinese?”

“I speak Cantonese pretty well, ma’am, but I’m not so fluent in Mandarin.”

“Well, I hope you won’t need it. Although I dare say that we’ll be hearing more Mandarin in Hong Kong next year.”

“Will Guy Thackeray be accessible?”

“I have no idea,” M said. “You’ll have to find a way to meet him. Size him up. You are to determine if we have any reason to be suspicious of the man. I trust you won’t fail. You have got ten days. The countdown to July the first is already in progress.”

“Zero minus ten,” Bond said. “Plenty of time. No pressure at all.”

She ignored his flippancy. “That’s all, 007. Be sure to stop by at Q Branch on your way out. I believe the Armourer has something for you.”

Bond stood as M shut off the monitor and returned the lighting to normal. He cleared his throat and said, “Ma’am, I’m very concerned about the Australian thing …”

“We all are, 007. I’ll keep you informed, but for the moment it’s not our brief. You’ve got your assignment, and that’s where I want you to concentrate.”

With that, M looked down at the document she had been reading when Bond first entered. It was a signal that the meeting was over.

“Very well, ma’am,” Bond said and started out of the room.

“James.” Bond stopped, surprised that she had called him by his Christian name.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Those Triads can be vicious. They’ll cut off your hand with a butcher’s knife as soon as look at you. Be careful.”

Bond nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” he said, and walked out of the inner sanctum.

Seven minutes later, Bond punched in the keypad code and entered the unmarked grey metal door in the basement. He was immediately assaulted by the smell of chemicals and the noise of machinery. Q Branch was a virtual Santa’s Workshop for grownups, and not very nice grownups at that.

In one corner, behind a wall of glass, technicians were spraypainting a BMW. Against a far wall was a line of cardboard human cutouts with bull’s eyes painted on various portions of their anatomy. Two technicians stood twenty-five feet away from the wall and fired propellants at the targets from what appeared to be crude prototypes of 35mm cameras.

“Oh, please, can I get just one shot of you, 007?”

Bond turned to see a tall, thin man with grey hair. He was holding one of the cameras.

“Major,” said Bond, “I wouldn’t have taken you for a paparazzo. ”

Major Boothroyd, the Armourer and head of Q Branch, replied, “It’s for the wife and kids, actually. Come on, say cheese. Please. ”

“Major, I never photograph well,” Bond said, chuckling. “I’m a bit camera-shy.”

Boothroyd placed the camera on a table. “I shutter to think what this camera would do for you!”

Bond winced at the pun.

“Follow me, 007. What size shoe do you wear?”

He followed Boothroyd into a room containing a bench and a shoe salesman’s stool with an inclined side. On a rack against the wall were a number of pairs of leather shoes in brown and black. Boothroyd gestured to the bench and sat on the stool. Bond sat, shaking his head. “Major, why do I feel like I’m in Harrod’s? I wear a nine and a half.”

Boothroyd turned to the shoes on the wall. “Nine and a half … nine and a half … do you prefer black or brown?”

“Black, please. Is this a joke?”

Boothroyd placed a pair of black shoes in front of Bond. “You know better than to ask that. Well, take off your shoes and try them on!”

Feeling ridiculous, Bond did as he was told. “Now I suppose you want me to walk around the room and see if they feel all right?”

“I want to make sure they’re comfortable, 007,” said Boothroyd. “There’s nothing worse than sore feet.”

Bond walked back and forth twice. “They’re fine. Now, what’s the point?”

“Take a look at the bottom of the tongue on the left shoe. You’ll find a small prying tool. Remove it.”

Bond did so. “Right,” the Armourer continued. “Now use the tool to pry open the heel.” The heel snapped off, revealing several items fitted neatly within. “As you’ve probably guessed by now, these are upgrades of our standard issue field shoes, model F, which all Double-O operatives are required to wear when on assignment.”

“Then you’ve made quite an improvement. I never could get the old ones open.”

Boothroyd ignored him. “As usual, they contain a variety of helpful items. In the left heel you’ll find not only the plastic, X-rayproof wire cutter and file, but also our new plastic dagger. It’s very sharp, so be careful.”

Bond picked out a round object with a lens on either side.

“Ah, that’s a microfilm reader. Press the little button on top to activate the light. Look through it as you would a child’s kaleidoscope. There’s a small compartment there in the heel to store strips of microfilm maps. We have an extensive library of microfilm maps detailing every square mile on the face of the planet. Before you go abroad, simply put in a request for microfilm covering the areas you may be visiting. With that handy contraption, you’ll never get lost, 007.”

“Thank God for that,” Bond commented.

“Right. Now pay attention, 007. These shoes could save your life.”

“Major, I do believe you’ve found your second calling.”

Boothroyd went on: “The shoelaces are now easily inflammable, generating enough heat to melt a half-inch iron bar. There’s a spare shoelace in the heel.”

“Good thing, too,” Bond said. “Shoelaces break at the damnedest times.”

“There are pieces of flint and steel in there as well to start fires. Now take a look at the other shoe. You’ll find the same prying tool under the tongue. Open up the heel on that one, if you would.” Bond did as he was told and found yet another cache of objects.

“As you know, this one’s geared more towards first aid. In the heel you’ll find some vital medicines and supplies. There’s a bottle of antiseptic, a pair of tweezers, acetaminophen tablets, generic amoxicyllin, and some bandages that are folded neatly in the sole of the shoe. We’ve added small tubes of sunblock and petroleum jelly.”

“That’s great,” said Bond. “I can dispense with my sponge bag altogether and travel light for a change. What about an electric razor and toothbrush?”

“Why is it you never appreciate the things I do for you, 007? I work my fingers to the bone, put in extra hours at weekends, and what do I get for it? You think my salary is anything to write home about? Why can’t you ever say ‘thank you’ for once?”

Bond stood and patted Boothroyd on the shoulder. “Thank you, Major, but you’re beginning to sound like my dear old Aunt Charmian did back when I was in my teens.”

“Hmph. I imagine you were just as disrespectful to her.”

“Never. She had a temper worthy of SMERSH.”

Boothroyd stood. “Do you have any questions about the shoes, 007?”

“Only one,” Bond said.

“What’s that?”

“Do you have any socks to go with them?”