"Help?"
"Right. Let me put it this way. I have a shipment, and someone tipped them off about it."
"It's being held at Shiliupu Wharf in the French Concession."
"The ones holding it are Chinese inspectors hired by those Frenchmen on the Shanghai Municipal Council in the French Concession."
"They don't know who owns the shipment. They just think it's ordinary contraband and want to squeeze some money out of it."
As Old Knife Handle spoke, he took a crumpled slip of paper from a drawer and pushed it in front of Chen Fan. "This is their price."
Chen Fan looked down. Written on it was: three thousand silver dollars.
"Three thousand? Sixth Master, this shipment must be something special!" Chen Fan's eyebrows rose involuntarily.
Old Knife Handle gave a bitter smile. "That's right. The shipment itself is indeed worth over ten thousand silver dollars, but that isn't the problem."
"There are things in that shipment that mustn't be uncovered."
Chen Fan looked up at him. "What things?"
Old Knife Handle hesitated, then answered honestly. "American-made detonators. A hundred and twenty in all."
"A customer in Jiangbei ordered them specifically for blowing up railways and bridges."
A customer in Jiangbei, and explosives for railways at that-needless to say, the goods were for Fourth Master's or Eighth Master's people!
Chen Fan didn't expose him. He watched with interest as the performance continued!
Old Knife Handle went on, "If they're discovered, it won't just be a matter of money. People will die."
"The French don't concern themselves with politics, but if they learn it's munitions, they won't dare hide it from Japan."
"And even if the French say nothing, the Tokkō has people all over Shanghai. If this gets out, they'll find out soon enough."
Chen Fan understood what Old Knife Handle meant. His shipment had been seized, but the customs inspectors only wanted money. They hadn't opened the crates for a thorough inspection yet.
Once they opened the crates and exposed the detonators, heh, losing the goods wouldn't be the only problem. They might follow the trail and uncover Old Knife Handle's operation.
"The wharf charges storage fees by the day. The day after tomorrow is the deadline. If the goods aren't out before then, customs will open the crates for inspection."
"I can't show my face. Someone there knows me. You're an unfamiliar face with no criminal record. You're the best man for it."
Chen Fan didn't agree immediately. Instead, he asked, "Sixth Master, you have men of your own. Why come to me?"
Old Knife Handle smiled bitterly. "My men are fine at fighting and killing, but this sort of thing..."
"Ah, laugh if you like. Last time I sent someone to make contact with customs, they nearly conned him out of his underpants."
"Those idiots do more harm than good!"
"You trust me?" Chen Fan took a small sip of tea.
Old Knife Handle waved a hand. "I've never trusted anyone since the day I entered this life. I only trust money."
"Besides, you're short of money right now. I know you're the same sort as me. Money matters to you, not people, and you follow the rules. That's why I'm giving you this opportunity!"
Chen Fan considered for a moment, then asked mildly, "Do you have any more detailed information?"
Old Knife Handle knew Chen Fan was tempted. He had no capital for business now. If he wanted to do business, he could only borrow or rob.
Old Knife Handle pulled another sheet from the drawer and handed it to Chen Fan. "Miao Desheng, deputy section chief at the French Concession's Shanghai Municipal Council inspection office. He's specifically responsible for inspecting goods going in and out of Shiliupu Wharf."
"He's a greedy man with a big appetite. Three thousand silver dollars was his demand."
"But he has one weakness. He's suspicious and afraid of being set up."
Chen Fan folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. "Where does he live?"
Old Knife Handle rattled it off, clearly having already investigated. "268 Myrtle Road, French Concession. A small Western-style house."
"Six people in the household. A wife, two sisters-in-law, and his children."
"He never takes the tram to work. He drives his own black Ford, plate number 358."
Chen Fan's brow tightened slightly. A mere deputy section chief earning a hundred or so a month could actually afford a Ford sedan. That was the biggest problem.
Killing him would be no injustice.
Chen Fan nodded, then asked, "What about the shipment's exact location? Warehouse number? Who's the keeper?"
"Warehouse D-3 at Shiliupu Wharf. Section C, stack seventeen."
"The warehouse keeper's surname is Sun. His nickname is Sun Monkey. No one really remembers his full name. Everyone calls him that."
"He likes gambling. I had someone slip him eighty dollars, and he agreed not to touch the shipment for three days."
"Today is the second day. Tomorrow is the last."
"Young Master Chen, time is short. If you think it's too difficult, I'll find another way."
Chen Fan laughed. "Heh, it's just picking up a shipment. No great problem!"
"In short, if you trust me, get the money ready and I'll make the trip for you."
Old Knife Handle leaned back, picked up the two walnuts on the table, and began rolling them in his hand.
After a long while, he said slowly, "Young Master Chen, perhaps I wasn't clear."
"There won't be three thousand silver dollars, but you must get the goods."
"I told you, Miao Desheng is very suspicious. If I'm willing to pay three thousand to redeem goods worth over ten thousand, he'll immediately know something is wrong."
"If he opens the crates, he could easily discover the detonators. I can't take that risk. If something goes wrong, my whole family will lose their heads."
"So... here's the problem. I want the goods, but I don't want to pay."
"Young Master Chen, think of something."
Chen Fan wasn't surprised. He knew what sort of man Old Knife Handle was. This wasn't their first dealing.
He lifted his teacup and slowly finished the last mouthful. "All right. I'll get that shipment back for you."
"Splendid..." Old Knife Handle's eyes lit up. "Once you've recovered it, I'll let you have whatever goods you want on credit."
"Weapons, supplies, anything you want. How much credit you get depends on how well you handle this."
"Do a fine job, and I'll give you a five-thousand-dollar credit limit. Three months to pay, no interest."
"Five thousand?" Chen Fan seemed dissatisfied with the figure!
Old Knife Handle spoke bluntly. "Too little? Young Master Chen, I'm not being stingy. All you have is two small gold bars. Even at their full value, they'd fetch less than a hundred silver dollars."
"A five-thousand-dollar credit limit is already out of respect for Chen Zhongnian!"
"Of course, you're a man worth befriending. But friendship is friendship, and rules are rules."
"Nobody's money grows on trees. If you need money fast, you'll have to risk your life to earn it."
Chen Fan stood up. "Sixth Master, you're right. I'll be risking my life, and you plan to send me off with that little?"
"Five thousand silver dollars? I suggest you keep it for your own funeral."
With that, Chen Fan made to leave.
Old Knife Handle hurriedly rose. "Wait, wait, Young Master Chen. Let's talk this over."
"It's only money! If you're not satisfied, we can negotiate until you are."
Chen Fan slowly turned around. "Sixth Master, let's speak plainly."
"They want three thousand silver dollars from you for this shipment. I'm not asking much. I'll take half."
"And lend me ten thousand silver dollars for three months, at one percent interest per month. I'll repay you on time in three months."
"Fifteen hundred as a fee, plus a loan of ten thousand at one percent? You might as well rob me!"
Old Knife Handle immediately grew agitated.
He normally charged three percent interest on ten thousand silver dollars, nine hundred over three months. Add a fifteen-hundred-dollar fee, and how could they possibly make a deal?
"Aren't we all robbing people, just in different ways? If you don't like it, forget I said anything!" Chen Fan shrugged and made to leave again.
Old Knife Handle said heavily, "Young Master Chen, my final offer. One thousand silver dollars for your trouble, and a five-thousand-dollar loan for three months, interest-free."
"That's my final offer. If you won't take it, we can part on good terms."
Chen Fan stopped, considered for a moment, then turned and cupped his hands toward Old Knife Handle. "It's a deal..."
Shiliupu Wharf, French Concession, Shanghai.
In the afternoon, coolies carried sacks back and forth along the gangplanks.
Each trip earned them a tally stick. Those sticks represented their wages!
Several Japanese freighters lay on the river, their plaster flags half-furled in the river breeze.
Chen Fan had changed into a short gray cloth jacket and pulled a battered felt hat over his head. He squatted by the wharf, smoking.
He looked no different from the coolies resting nearby.
After leaving Shengping Theatre, he had visited Myrtle Road. As a secret agent, he had needed only a little over two hours to get a rough picture of Miao Desheng's circumstances.
The small Western-style house on Myrtle Road; he left at seven in the morning and returned at six in the evening, traveling between the Shanghai Municipal Council and Wusongkou in between.
An Alsatian was kept in the yard. It was let loose at night and chained in the backyard during the day.
The two sisters-in-law liked cards. Every few days, they invited friends over for mahjong and kept up the racket until midnight.
The first problem now was to deal with this man.
As for retrieving the detonators, that posed another difficulty. According to Old Knife Handle, there were three crates, forty detonators in each. He couldn't move them all alone. In other words, he needed help...
Chen Fan ground his cigarette butt out against his sole, rose, and headed deeper into the wharf.
The coolies at Shiliupu Wharf belonged to several gangs-the Jiangbei Gang, the Northern Jiangsu Gang, and the Local Gang. Each held its own patch, and fights over work broke out constantly.
Only the gang-affiliated foremen could keep them under control. Those men held the power to allocate work, and every coolie had to address them as "master."
Cao Bin was one such man.
Back when Chen Fan's father, Chen Zhongming, had roamed the jianghu, he had sworn brotherhood with three men.
The eldest was Huo Yuanlong, a northerner whose Bajiquan was truly formidable. He had also been Chen Fan's second master!
He had died at sea years earlier. Not even his remains had been found.
Although Chen Fan had grown up in the Wuzhou countryside, he had enjoyed some fortunate encounters. The master he had apprenticed to in his youth had quite a background!
His master's surname was Tao. He had passed the provincial military examination in the twentieth year of Guangxu's reign, then the metropolitan military examination the following year. He had served as a Qianqing Gate guard and risen to the fourth-rank title of General of Martial Might!
From childhood, Chen Fan had studied southern boxing under him, a style similar to Great Sage Pigua Palm!
This style emphasized long-reaching strikes and power from both arms. Combined with the great spear and Bajiquan Huo Yuanlong had later taught him, his kung fu was hard and forceful. Ordinary men truly weren't enough to challenge him!
Chen Zhongming ranked second. The third brother's surname was Jia, and his original name was Jia Zheng. A member of the swindlers' fraternity, he dealt in counterfeit goods...
He was extremely conceited. To show off his superb skills, he insisted on leaving his own name on his works: Jia Sizhen!
Chen Zhongming, however, always called him Mock Prude!
The fourth was Cao Youshan, the former boss of Shiliupu Wharf and youngest son of Cao Shaoqing, a boss of the Green Gang's Da generation.
He had spent most of his life at Shiliupu Wharf. When Chen Zhongnian had gotten into trouble, he had been the one to approach Lin Guisheng and plead for him.
But he, too, had died of illness last year, passing his position to his son, Cao Bin.
Given Cao Youshan's relationship with Chen Zhongming, Chen Fan should have sought him out upon arriving in Shanghai!
Chen Fan had stayed away not because he didn't want to come, but because he couldn't.
His identity had been too sensitive then. As a Fuxing Society man, getting too close to people in the jianghu could easily lead to trouble.
But things were different now...
Once the order to "lie low in place" came down, he became a man without an identity.
A man without an identity could do anything.
A corrugated iron shed on the wharf served as Cao Bin's "office."
A long bench stood outside the shed. Two burly men sat on it with iron rods tucked at their waists. Seeing Chen Fan approach, one barked, "What do you want?"
"I'm here for Cao Bin." Chen Fan pushed his felt hat up slightly.
"Who are you? Think you can see Brother Bin whenever you please?"
Chen Fan wasted no words on him. He took a copper coin from his pocket and handed it to the man. "Take this inside and show Cao Bin. He'll know."
The copper coin was a token from when Chen Zhongnian and Cao Youshan had sworn brotherhood. One side bore the character for "righteousness," the other the words "live and die together."
Chen Fan had kept it on him ever since Chen Zhongming's death.
Dubiously, the burly man took the coin inside.
Less than half a minute later, the shed door was flung open, and a young man of twenty-seven or twenty-eight strode out.
He had thick eyebrows, large eyes, a square face, and arms as thick as other men's thighs. He wore a black cotton-padded jacket with its sleeves rolled to the elbows, exposing forearms like cast iron.
He paused at the sight of Chen Fan, looking him up and down several times as his eyes gradually brightened.
"Chen Fan? What brings you here...?"
"Second Brother." Chen Fan smiled. "It's been years."
Without another word, Cao Bin pulled him into a bear hug, his fan-sized palms thumping Chen Fan's back. "You brat! So you still know to come find me! I thought you'd forgotten the way to Shiliupu!"
The blows nearly knocked the breath out of Chen Fan, but his smile stayed unchanged. "I couldn't forget."
"How is Brother Cao?"
The Brother Cao Chen Fan meant was Cao Bin's elder brother, Cao Zheng. Sickly since childhood and suffering from lung disease, he needed quiet rest year-round!
"Same as ever, hanging on between life and death!" Cao Bin replied casually. Grabbing Chen Fan's arm, he dragged him toward the shed while shouting at the two men outside, "Are you blind? This is my brother! Stop him again, and I'll skin you!"
The two burly men ducked their heads in fright and apologized repeatedly.
The shed was small, with a wooden table and several rickety chairs. A portrait of Lord Guan hung on the wall, with incense burning before it.
An account book lay open on the table, with an abacus and half a pot of liquor beside it. To the left stood a tally holder filled with sticks of various sizes.
Cao Bin swept the things on a chair aside and invited Chen Fan to sit. He poured a bowl of liquor and pushed it over. "Have a drink to warm up first. In this damned weather, the river wind cuts right through your bones."
Chen Fan lifted the bowl and sipped. It was cheap shaodaozi liquor, and its burn tightened his throat.
"Second Brother, I won't beat around the bush." Chen Fan put the bowl down, his smile fading a little. "I've come today to ask you a favor."