The Steel Tsar by Michael Moorcock Read Free Book Online

police matter. There could be trouble.”
    There seemed to be no point in arguing. I humoured him instead. “Thank you, lieutenant.” I walked across the square but remained in the shadows of a side street, peering curiously at what was going on.
    Now the young officer dismounted and ordered his sergeant to enter one of the houses. The Ghoorkas rushed in and the lieutenant followed behind.
    I watched in puzzlement, not knowing what to make of the scene at all. There was dead silence in the square for a little while, then a horrible babble of screams and yells issued from the house. I heard a woman shouting in Cantonese. There were a couple of shots and then the raised voice of the officer giving a series of orders. Another scream—a man’s this time—then out into the street poured a score of coolies. They were staggering and screwing their eyes up against the sunlight. Every one of them was dazed and scared stiff.
    There came another shot from inside the house and then more shouting. The coolies outside began to scatter, some rushing into nearby doorways, others running off down towards the harbour. A further series of commands came from the officer and then a terrible wailing, the sound of flesh being struck, presumably with rifle butts.
    Appalled, I was about to step forward when a panic-stricken coolie burst from the house, hesitated, glanced around wildly holding a bleeding hand, then ran in my direction. I stepped aside to let him pass and he fled around a corner and vanished. But I had seen his pupils. The man had been drugged. Now I understood. The soldiers were raiding some sort of local opium den.
    Hearing a moan, I re-entered the square and saw that one of the opium smokers had fallen to the flagstones. He had been stabbed badly with a bayonet in his shoulder. I knelt beside him, tore back his shirt and did my best to stop the flow of blood while he stared at me in terror, small moans escaping his lips.
    Boots tramped from the house.
    “Good God, man, what are you doing?”
    I looked up to see the lieutenant striding from the house. He looked pretty pleased with himself.
    “This chap’s been stabbed by one of your soldiers,” I said harshly. “I’m trying to help him. Was there any need to—”
    The lieutenant glanced contemptuously at the coolie. “Doubtless he tried to kill someone. Crazed by opium—they all are. His own people will look after him. We’re trying to teach them a lesson, after all.”
    With strips of the man’s shirt I bandaged up the wound as best I could. He tried to speak and then fainted. Helplessly, I tried to lift him, but it was impossible.
    Now the Ghoorkas emerged holding three terrified Chinese in black-and-red smocks; two men and a woman, all badly bruised and probably the proprietors of the den.
    The lieutenant’s baton stabbed in their direction. He raised his head and spoke to the empty windows and doors. “Now no more opium! You savvy! Opium bad! These people bad! Go to prison. We lock up long time! Savvy?”
    Angrily he tapped his riding boot with his baton. He glared at me and opened his mouth to speak.
    “I’m going to try to get this chap to the hospital,” I said. “Can somebody give me a hand?”
    The officer took the reins of his horse and looked from me to his soldiers who held their miserable prisoners much more firmly than was necessary.
    “One of your men—” I began.
    The lieutenant remounted. “I told you, sir. His own people will look after him. You obviously don’t understand the conditions on this island. There’s a dreadful opium problem. It’s increasing daily. They grow the poppies rather than food. I...”
    “What else have the bastards got to live for, Begg?” A tired drawl came from the shadowy doorway of the raided house. An English voice.
    Lieutenant Begg turned in his saddle and shook his baton at the unseen speaker. “You stay out of this. You’re lucky we didn’t arrest you, too.”
    A figure emerged into the sunlight.