Elephant Song

It a

I will await your summons.  But he could not concentrate on her.  The excitement was fizzing in his head.  I will rest for an hour.  See that I am not disturbed.  Then I have to go down to the city.  There is much work to do before I leave.  I will not return tonight, and I shall probably stay at the apartment in Tunhua Road.  I shall send you a message before I return.

Alone in his own room he teased himself with the telephone.

He placed the cordless instrument on the table and stared at it, rehearsing every word he would say and his breathing was short and quick as though he had run up a flight of stairs.  His fingers trembled slightly when at last he reached out for it.  The telephone was fitted with a special coding scrambler.  It could not be tapped and it was impossible for any other person, Civil or military or police, to trace the special number that he punched into the key panel.

Very few people had this number.  She had told him once that she had given it to only six of her most valued clients.  She answered it on the second ring and she recognized his voice instantly.  She greeted him with the special code name she had assigned him.  You have not been to see me for almost two years, Green Mountain Man.  I have been away.

Yes, I know, but still I missed you.

I want to come tonight.  Will you want the special thing?  Yes.

Cheng felt his stomach clench at the thought of it.  He thought he might be sick with fear and loathing and excitement.  It is very short notice, she said.  And the price has risen since your last visit.  The price does not matter.  Can you do it?

He heard the high strained tones of his own voice.  She was silent, and he knew she was baiting him.  He wanted to scream at her and then she said, You are fortunate.  Her voice changed.  It became obscenely soft and slimy.  I have received new merchandise; I can offer you a choice of two.  Cheng gulped and cleared his throat of a plug of phlegm before he could ask.  Young?  Very young.  Very tender.  Untouched.

When will you be ready?  Ten o'clock tonight, she said.  Not before.

At the sea pavilion?  he asked.  Yes, she replied.  They will expect you at the gate.  Ten o clock, she repeated.  Not earlier, not later.

Cheng drove to the apartment building in Tunbua Road.  It was in the most prestigious part of the city and the accommodation was expensive, but it was paid for by Lucky Dragon.

He left his Porsche in the underground garage and rode up to the top floor apartment in the elevator.  By the time he had showered and changed it was still only six o'clock and he had plenty of time in which to prepare himself.

He left the apartment building on foot and set off down Tunhua Road.

tHe lo ed the renao of Taipei.  It was one of the things that he missed most while he was away.  Renao was a concept that was almost impossible to translate from the Chinese to any other language.  It meant festive, lively, joyous and noisy all at the same time.

It was now the ghost month, the seventh lunar month when the ghosts return from hell to haunt the earth and have to be placated with gifts of ghost money and food.  It was also necessary to keep them at a distance with fireworks and dragon processions.

Cheng paused to laugh and applaud one of the processions led by a monstrous dragon with a huge papier-michi head and fifty pairs of human legs beneath its serpentine body.  The jumping-jack fireworks popped with spurts of blue smoke about the ankles of the spectators and the band beat drums and gongs and the children shrieked.  It was good renao and it heightened Cheng's excitement.

He threaded his way through the crowds and the bustle until he reached the East Garden area of the city and left the main thoroughfare to enter a back, alley.

The fortune-teller was one Cheng, had used for ten years.  He was an old man with thin wispy grey hair and a facial mole like Cheng's father had.

He wore traditional robes and a mandarin cap and sat cross-legged in his curtained cubicle with his paraphernalia around him.

Cheng greeted him respectfully and at his invitation squatted facing him.

I have not seen you for a long time, the old man accused him, and Cheng apologised.  I have been away from Taiwan.

They discussed the fee and the divination that Cheng required.  I am about to undertake a task, Cheng explained.  I wish to have spirit guidance.  The old man nodded and consulted his almanacs and star guides, nodding and mumbling to himself.  Finally he handed Cheng a ceramic cup filled with bamboo rods.

Cheng shook this vigorously and then spilled the rods on to the mat between them.  Each rod was painted with characters and emblems and the old man studied the pattern in which they had fallen.  This task will not be undertaken here in Taiwan, but in a land across the ocean, he said, and Cheng relaxed a little.  The old man had not lost his touch.

He nodded encouragement.  it is a task of great complexity and there are many people involved.  Foreigners, foreign devils.

Again Cheng nodded.  I see powerful allies, but also powerful enemies who will oppose you.  I know my allies, but I do not know who will be my enemies, Cheng interjected.

You already know your enemy.  He has opposed you before.

On that occasion you overcame him.  Can you describe him?  The fortune-teller shook his head.  You will know him when you see him again.

When will that be?  You should not travel during the ghost month.

You must prepare yourself here in Taiwan.  Leave only on the first day of the eighth lunar month.  "Very well.  That suited Cheng's plans.

Will I overcome this enemy once again?  To answer that question it will be necessary to make a further divination, the old man whispered, and Cheng grimaced at this device for doubling the fee.  Very well" he agreed, and the fortune-teller replaced the bamboo sticks in the bowl and Cheng shook them out on to the mat.  There are two enemies now.

The fortune-teller picked two rods out of the pile.  One is the man that you know, the other is a woman whom you have not yet met.

Together they will oppose your endeavours.  Will I overcome them?

Cheng asked anxiously, and the old man examined the fall of the bamboo rods minutely.

I see a snow-capped mountain and a great forest.  These will be the battleground.  There will be evil spirits and demons The old man's voice trailed away, and he lifted one of the bamboo sticks from the pile. What else do you see?  Cheng insisted, but the old man coughed and spat and would not look up at him.  The bamboo sliver was painted white, the colour of death and disaster.

That is all.  I can see no more, he mumbled.

Cheng took a new thousand Taiwan dollar note from his top pocket and laid it beside the pile of bamboo rods.  Will I overcome my enemies?

Cheng asked, and the note disappeared like a conjuring trick under the old man's bony fingers.  You will have great face, he promised, but still he would not look directly at his client, and Cheng left the cubicle with some of his good feelings dissipated by the ambiguous reply.

More than ever now he needed solace, but it was still only a little after eight o'clock.  She had told him not to come before ten.

It was only a short walk to Snake Alley, but on his way Cheng paused in the forecourt of the Dragon Mountain Temple and burned a pile of ghost money in one of the gaudy pyramid furnaces to placate the ancestral ghosts who would be prowling the night around him.