The Chinese youths seemed to respect, perhaps even fear, Tristan’s threatening posture. The muscled fellow stepped forward.
Tristan eyed him warily.
“You’re not being very friendly,” he said, trying to make light of the situation.
“If you tell us how, we’ll be happy to leave. Just say the word.”
“For a little squeeze we’ll show you out,” the youth said.
“Squeeze?” Tristan questioned.
“Money,” the youth said.
“The rest of your money. And your watches as well.”
“Then you will let us go?” Tristan asked.
“You’ll show us out of here?”
“Yes,” the Chinese youth said.
“We will accept that your debt has been paid.”
The youths with the knives lowered their weapons slightly, as if to display their sincerity.
Tristan reached for his wallet again. Pulling it out, he withdrew what money he had in it and put it on the nearest table. He then pulled off his watch and put that on top of the bills.
“And the woman’s,” the muscular man said.
“That’s not very chivalrous,” Tristan said.
The man sneered.
“On the table,” he said.
“Sorry, luv,” Tristan said. He stuck out his hand. Marissa slipped off the watch that Robert had given her and handed it to Tristan. He added it to the small pile on the table.
“There you go, mate,” Tristan said.
“Now let’s have you live up to your side of the bargain.”
The man came forward and picked up the money and the watches. He hastily divided the money among the others. The watches he pocketed.
“As long as we’re now on good terms,” Tristan said, “what about the Wing Sin? Are you fellows part of that illustrious organization?”
“No,” the leader growled, “We’re the Wo Sing Wo. The Wing Sin are pigs.” He spat on the ground.
“Any idea where these pigs could be located?” Tristan asked.
The man turned to confer with one of his companions. At length he said: “Tse Mau will show you out of the Walled City.
Don’t come back.” One of the toughs stepped forward, glaring menacingly at Tristan.
“After this type of welcome,” Tristan said, “I can assure you that we will not be back.”
The Chinese youths parted, allowing Tristan and Marissa to pass. Tristan reached behind for Marissa’s hand and led the way.
“Ah!” Marissa yelled when one of the youths reached out and squeezed one of her breasts. Tristan whirled, but Marissa pushed him forward.
They walked quickly through the maze, the young Chinese staying five or six paces ahead. They didn’t talk. After taking a half dozen turns, Marissa began to fear that they were not being led out, but only farther within. But after another turn the passageway suddenly opened out into the cool night air. Across the street the well-lit dentist’s office appeared like a beacon. Even the strident Chinese music coming from the radios sounded better to Marissa now that they were out.
Tse started back into the corridor, but Tristan called him by name. The man turned.
“Do you speak English?” Tristan asked.
“Yes,” he said haughtily. Marissa estimated that he was about twenty; he seemed to be one of the older members of the group.
“That makes things easier,” Tristan said.
“I wanted to ask a favor. You see, we’re low on cash at the moment. I know you were given some money back in that rat hole. Could you spot us a bit to get back to the hotel?”
Tse responded by pulling out his knife. It was about eight inches long, with an upward curve at the tip like a miniature scimitar.
Marissa winced. She couldn’t believe that Tristan had risked the youth’s wrath with such a request.
But Tristan’s move was calculated. He’d hoped the thug would brandish the knife again under these different circumstances. As soon as the knife appeared, Tristan struck with lightning speed.
In an instant, the knife clattered to the ground. With a yell,
Tristan treated Tse to a series of punches, followed by a spinning kick that knocked him down.
Tse cowered against the wall as Tristan kicked the knife into a street sewer. Then he went over to the Chinese youth and yanked him to his feet by the front of his leather vest.