China Jewel (3 page)

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Authors: Thomas Hollyday

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery, #Retail, #Suspense, #Thriller

BOOK: China Jewel
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The race is to be internationally televised with full cooperation and assistance of the Chinese government. The sailing race, while similar to other tall ship races and the Volvo-Whitbread round the World Race sponsored in the West, will be done in the old-fashioned manner traditional to these classic brigs rather than using modern technology typical of highly designed modern racing yachts. It will begin June 2 two years hence from a rendezvous point in the Mid- Atlantic, and continue nonstop on the old clipper routes to finish at Guangzhou, present name of the old tea port of Canton, by October 15 in time for the
opening of the Autumn Chinese Export Commodities Fair where the prize will be awarded.

The ships are to be two-masted brigs rigged true to the designs, running gear, and equipment of the period 1830 to 1840. They must be exact replicas of ships actually used in history and must be navigated in all weather in the old manner. Modern gear is allowed only for required international safety regulations. It includes a Chinese manufactured satellite tracking and communication system provided by the Chinese sponsor. Use of other electronics will cause disqualification. Repairs to each brig will be made by the crew without outside assistance unless given permission by the sponsor and subject to challenge by competitors at the end of the race in Guangzhou.

The Chinese sponsor insists boat sponsoring corporations and entrants will be disqualified if records are uncovered of any Nineteenth Century slave or opium trading. Malicious crimes against China in either corporate history or in the logs of these ships will also be grounds.

 

Bill leaned over and said in a low voice, “I’ve just learned somebody’s been buying up short sales contracts on Johnson Company stock. If my Wall Street price goes down, my competitors can buy me cheap. They will take over control of Johnson. This race is kind of up close and personal.”

“You don’t know who is doing it?” asked Cutter.

Bill replied, “My people are checking. I’ll tell you one thing. It might be any of these clowns here today. All of us are having their stock issues played by speculators betting on the risks. It could even be one of our employees. Anyway, when one of us gets in trouble out in the ocean and has his stock fall, someone will be rich with the short sales.”

The clock on the wall struck three. At the last beat, a side door opened. A tall man with a narrow oriental face and white hair shining with grease, entered. He strode as a dancer but with the deadliness of a gunfighter. He radiated strength and speed.

“I am Dela and have been appointed by the Government of the People’s Republic of China to make sure all goes smoothly. Today I wish to introduce the Chinese manufacturer whose concept inspired this world competition.”

Dela stood to the side as a Chinese woman entered. She curtly nodded to him. She had black hair cut short, a solemn mature expression accented with rimless glasses. She was dressed in a tailored red suit which fit her slim figure. Under her right arm was a large portfolio of expensive leather. She walked with military stiffness to the front of the table.

Dela said, “This is Professor Tung, Director General of the Chinese Motor Truck Company, which constructs, as you surely realize, the famous powerful vehicles of the People’s Liberation Army.”

The woman nodded as Dela spoke, approving of what he said.

Bill whispered. “I know about Tung. She’s got money and party connections. The truck company is one of the best government corporations. She has a solid reputation for sticking to agreements with Americans in her deals.”

“Yeah, but I know Dela from the past. I would not trust him at all.”

Maybe he was wrong but this professor had an aura of dedication that made Cutter uneasy. He had a sudden sense that she would not hesitate to hurt his ship and its crew to carry out her purpose. Then he relaxed, remembering Bill’s advice when they had first worked together. Bill had said, “Good business people are all the same. They don’t get emotionally involved in who or what they are trading. In business, you’re no good to me if you think of anything but the money you’re planning to make. Don’t worry that people will be hurt.”

Professor Tung came forward holding some of the sheets of paper from her portfolio. She said, “For several years our engineers have studied the automobile markets of the United States and the Western countries. We have observed the market entries by various Asian companies. We realized our need for marketing experience. Our management has proposed this race and that its winner will be offered the opportunity to join us in distribution. I am here today to inform you competitors of the car we plan to sell with your help”

“Now we know their cards,” whispered Bill with a grin.

Cutter murmured, “They’ll have us barbarians kill each other off to save them the trouble, then give the contract to the last man standing.”

Bill added, “I figured they had something up their sleeve more than celebrating the history of the China tea trade. Glad now I jumped in with my Peregrine. We’ve got to win this thing, Jimmy.”

Professor Tung picked up a large picture from the portfolio. The audience leaned forward to gaze intently as if they were children waiting for a Santa Claus gift. She handed it to the first at the table, the British owner, and then reached for a second graphic.

Sighs and comments followed the prints as they moved from hand to hand. When the first picture was in front of him, Cutter studied the low slung vehicle prototype. Across the bottom of each page the single word “Clipper” stood forth in bright typeset.

“The old Packard automobile name,” said Bill, to the others.

Dela smiled “Yes, the American Packard. We bought the trademark. Ladies and gentlemen, I must advise you these are secret drawings for your appreciation only. They will be given to the press at appropriate moments later. A full-size version of the Clipper is to be introduced at the Export Commodities Fair in Guangzhou at the same time as we present the gold trophy to the boat winner.”

Professor Tung said, “I am sure you have questions about the car. It will resemble and we think improve one of the most successful small cars in history.”

“The Mustang,” blurted Cutter.

“Right you are,” said Dela, as Tung smiled broadly. “It’s a vehicle to appeal to all segments of the market.”

Bill added quietly, “Yeah, Jim, you just better win for me.” Bill motioned to the excited executives around the table. “They see the opportunity too.”

After the meeting broke up, Dela found Cutter at the side of the room as the group began to break up. “I have been pleased to find you associated with this project, Cutter.”

Cutter asked, his voice not hiding his hatred, “General Dela. So you remember me?”

“Why not? Warriors remember their opponents if they survive. You almost killed me.”

Cutter spoke slowly. “If I’d had another minute, I would have.”

“I don’t think so, Jim. You’re not a killer.”

“You’re wrong. I would have killed you if I could,” Cutter replied.

His mind reeled with the memories of being a young Army Ranger sent in after the war to find missing soldiers. He heard the machine guns and grenades. He saw again this General, where he had fallen from trying to escape. He was stretched out in mud, reaching for his Chinese-made pistol. Cutter was ready to fire his rounds at the man’s smiling face. The Vietnamese were counterattacking. Rounds were coming from all sides. Then his arm had flown back into his face with an enemy bullet’s impact. The blackness came over him as he fell to the ground. He remembered the general laughing at him.

Dela added, reading Cutter’s thoughts, “We both survived.” Cutter heard that same laugh in the tone of his words.

Cutter said, staring hard at his former enemy, “You need to fix our satellite communications problems. We requested repairs because we still have interference.”

Dela’s smile faded. He said, in a polite and official tone, “I have been informed by my staff of your requests.” Then after a pause, he added, with a sneer, “We have already sent technicians and provided several replacements. You should be aware the other competitors have reported no trouble with the equipment.”

Cutter nodded. The last Chinese mechanic came to River Sunday a month ago, didn’t fix anything, and spent most of his time enjoying the seafood restaurants. The crew had nicknamed him “Imperial Crab,” because of his fondness for that local delicacy.

He paused. “So we’re the only ones with junk equipment. It couldn’t be that you might want to get even with me could it, General Dela?”

The General did not smile. “I’ll look into the matter again,” he said.

Cutter turned his back, knowing that he should have killed this man when he had a chance.

Chapter 3

 

May 25 8 AM

River Sunday. Maryland

 

Cutter dressed in his black Peregrine polo shirt, shorts, and a new pair of sunglasses. His left chest had the white outline of a bird with talons. He hurried down the wide steps of the Chesapeake Hotel. He passed the two-hundred-year-old cast iron bell in the garden. The black doorman had informed him its tolling had once brought the field slaves back to quarters from their work. When Katy Marbury, his history professor girlfriend from Baltimore, noticed it a few months ago, she had smiled knowingly. She told him she was in the midst of writing a book on the old Chesapeake planters exposing them as America's first drug traders. “The colonial British government tried to outlaw the importation of the weed!” Katy was that way, a bright beautiful woman with a thousand projects, most of which she could not fit into her crowded schedule.

The town clock three blocks away in the cupola of the courthouse droned eight o’clock. He reached the door of the Peregrine race command center. He caught a quick glimpse of the harbor on his right. Wispy clouds drifted over the Chesapeake Bay. In the distance water sparkled with dark workboat shapes interrupting the bright morning sunshine. Inside the control center, the stale smell from the overworked air conditioning met him like a fog. He nodded to his secretary Laura, who gave him one of her country smiles showing her beautiful milk-white teeth. Jolly had hired her to help Cutter with messages when he first came to town. Laura's husband drove a dairy truck and she had grown up accustomed to the slow pace of Eastern Shore life. Working for Cutter in this office, she had achieved the local status of a lottery winner. Her job with Cutter surpassed most town jobs in money and perks.

She motioned him to Doc Jerry’s desk where the daily report had come in from the Peregrine. Each skipper at sea was permitted routine communication by satellite phone with his headquarters. Individual competitor teams also linked to the Chinese for monitoring of illegal race behavior. All the components of the Global Maritime Distress Safety System were incorporated including transponders installed by Chinese technicians. Temperature, current, tide and wave information downloaded to each ship on these daily communications. The skippers and their headquarters could discuss crew health, repairs, and personal messages as well as weather. Cutter did not provide extensive planning to his captain at sea. He thought he should sail as much as possible on his own. It did allow for warnings of serious storm emergencies. Bill had hired top notch ocean racing experts and filled Doc Jerry’s office with technology to track the elements affecting the ship at sea. They had gone into a general tactical plan. One of the electronic screens on the wall showed the whole route and references to problems. Plans had been made in advance for ways to avoid bad currents or to take advantage of various winds and suggestions as to sails to use. Captain Hall had on board copies of these ideas.

From the large electronic chart, Cutter spotted the black avatar of the Peregrine four days out. Close by sailed the blue symbol of the French boat. The other two brigs were closing on them, from north of the rendezvous. The start of the race was only days away.

On the display, the red line traced the prescribed race with rectangle boxes of degrees at each target mark to be reached. Competitors had to sail within one hundred miles of each mark.

Box one- North 29 degrees 49 minutes latitude, West 34 degrees 35 minutes longitude, the starting line in the Atlantic Ocean. This was the historic area in which the old clippers turned south with favorable winds. From this Azores location, the boats shot the winds down towards the Brazilian Coast.

Box two- The next mark was at Cape Horn, South 54 degrees, 4 minutes latitude, West 68 degrees 16 minutes longitude. From here the ships steered west and then north. They proceeded up the western shoreline of South America.

Box three- This was a Pacific Ocean departure mark of South 10 degrees 53 minutes latitude West 79 degrees 4 minutes Longitude, near Callao Peru. The route stretched across the Pacific.

Box four- This was near Hawaii at North 3 degrees 6 minutes latitude, West 161 degrees 9 minutes longitude.

Box five- The next was the Philippine mark at North 13 degrees 30 minutes latitude and East 139 degrees 45 minutes longitude.

Box six- Turning north again, they competed to the finish rectangle at North 22 degrees 24 minutes latitude and East 113 degrees 68 minutes longitude in the area of Hong Kong and the old port of Canton, now called Guangzhou. The chart maker had set the four flags of the racers in the final spot, similar to the line of trading houses kept by the various countries in Nineteenth Century Canton.

He went first to the workstation of Sparkles, Doc’s assistant. She used her software talents to manage the allowed computer updates. Cutter liked to kid the pretty and enthusiastic young woman about the framed pictures of her heroes. Sparkles had carefully arranged a portfolio of local baseball stars, all of whom grew up near River Sunday. Frank “Home Run” Baker played infield for Philadelphia in 1922, Jimmy Foxx “Double X” slugged from third base for Boston in 1945, and Harold Baines held down right field for Chicago in 2001. She assured Cutter if she ever found someone as much of a man as these heroes of hers she’d marry him.

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