Yellowthread Street by William Marshall Read Free Book Online Page B

at Fanling got into position well in advance.
    They noted that the constables from Yellowthread Street had signposted the taps, warning about the shortage, and they expected a quiet night.
    It suited them, they were due to come off duty before dawn, and the day shift from Fanling would have the hard part. They sat around picking broken threads from their rattan shields and talking about Saturday’s race meeting at Happy Valley.
    Mr Skilbeck was very, very drunk and he was doing his best to rape Apricot Tang Lee. That is to say, he said in a very loud voice that if she wasn’t going to take him upstairs hewas damn well going to rape her and Chinese women were no different from New Jersey women and you might as well take it by force because you never got anywhere being nice.
    The sailors, one of whom was also from New Jersey and who paid alimony to an address there he had spent twenty years in the Navy paying for, all nodded and said, ‘Yeah, get on with it!’ and shot threatening glances at the barman.
    The barman polished glasses and looked the other way.
    ‘Do me a favour,’ Hot Time Alice said to Spencer at the door of her office. No one knew better than she that drinking provoked the desire but took away from the performance, ‘Go and arrest that drunk.’
    Spencer looked over at Skilbeck. Apricot had taken refuge under the table and Skilbeck was looking under the tablecloth—which had the tabletop between it and Apricot—for the object of his rapine.
    ‘I don’t want you to do anything private about this Mongolian thing, Alice,’ Spencer said, ‘it’s a police matter.’
    ‘I reported it, didn’t I?’ She still seemed a little surprised about it herself.
    ‘Yes,’ Spencer said, ‘Leave it to us. We’ll handle it.’
    ‘Hmm,’ Alice said. She seemed far from happy. The thought of the Jap boy who said he could disembowel had grown on her since the decision from Hanford Hill. She said, ‘It’s a pity.’
    ‘Alice—’ Spencer said. On the way out he arrested Mr Skilbeck.
    O’Yee saw the African sailor in the queue. There were two schoolgirls—one European and one Chinese—a young man with glasses, his girlfriend, someone’s mother and then the African. O’Yee glanced down at Gregory Peck and the barrel of the Colt that came out at about the right ear. The African was tall and thin and towered over the young man, his girlfriend and someone’s mother.
    The Chinese schoolgirl said, ‘Front or back?’ to herEuropean friend and her friend said, ‘Can we afford back stalls?’
    They both consulted their purses.
    O’Yee waited for them to decide and watched the African. The African read a poster on the wall nonchalantly. O’Yee looked for gun bulges under his tunic, but someone’s mother moved impatiently and blocked him out.
    The Chinese schoolgirl said, ‘Back stalls,’ and O’Yee gave her the ticket and the wrong change.
    ‘Pardon me,’ the Chinese schoolgirl said.
    O’Yee gave her the right change.
    ‘Back stalls,’ the European girl said. Her friend read the starting times of the features near the poster and said, ‘Come on, Mary.’
    O’Yee gave Mary her ticket and the right change.
    The young man with glasses disengaged his girlfriend from the line and said, ‘Two back stalls,’ and handed O’Yee eight one-dollar notes and change.
    O’Yee clicked out two tickets from the machine on the benchtop.
    The young man said, ‘I gave you the right money.’
    ‘Did I shortchange you?’
    ‘No. But you didn’t count it.’
    ‘I trust you,’ O’Yee said. He glanced around someone’s mother at the African. The African caught his eye, held it curiously and then looked away.
    ‘O.K.’ the young man said. He thought that was no way to make a profit. He went over to his girlfriend, said something about the changing state of the world and hope for tomorrow based on mutual trust and respect, and took her inside.
    The gun was under Gregory Peck’s face. O’Yee had a sudden doubt