Chapter Five
There was a lot of warmth still left in the sun when we arrived at the Chinese Dragon. The place was crowded at that hour, but a discreetly displayed tip had persuaded a waiter there was room for one more table outside.
After I'd ordered a cinzano for my companion and a soju for myself I went out onto the pavement and started to take some video-camera shots of the colourful scene.
I was focusing the camera on Kim Su-mi when I suddenly realised she was talking to someone. A second later a man's figure came into my viewfinder.
'Hello there!' exclaimed a familiar voice. It was the American, the same disarming grin on his slightly chubby features.
I lowered the camera and managed to wipe the scowl off my face as he embarked upon a detailed account of his day's adventures. Slowly, I went back to the table. He was beaming at Kim Su-mi so agreeably that it was impossible to feel annoyed.
'Have I been around!' he exclaimed. 'I've just about walked my feet to the bone buying things for the folks back home'.
'Of course, you're going back tomorrow'. She nodded. Then, as my shadow fell across the table, she turned to introduce us.
He stuck out a massive hand. 'Glad to know you, sir', he exclaimed, and sounded as if he really meant it. I did my best to reciprocate, but it was an effort.
'Mr Doyle is staying at my hotel', Kim Su-mi told me.
He nodded eagerly. 'And we're always bumping into each other outside the hotel. In boats, buses, elevators .'
'Museums?' I interrupted, a trifle maliciously.
'No, sir!' Doyle pawed the air contemptuously. 'No museums. Not for me!'
His hand dropped to the back of a chair. 'Say, do you mind if I take the weight off my feet .?'
I accepted the inevitable. 'Of course not'.
'I don't wish to intrude.'
I bit back the short answer to that one, and said: 'No . no, that's quite all right'.
He planted his bag on the table, put his camera underneath it, and deposited himself in the vacant chair. 'That's better. China's a great place, Mr Moon. I really go for it. But my feet! Will they'll be glad to be back home!'
I gave him his laugh, stuffed my camera back in its case, and laid it down resignedly. Just for something to say, I asked: 'is this your first visit to China, Mr Doyle?'
'No, indeed. I was here about five or six weeks ago. Did the whole country in five days. Didn't figure on coming back'. He rubbed a hand over his crew cut.
'But I had a rather unfortunate experience'.
I raised my eyebrows politely. 'What was that?'
'The night I was leaving, someone broke into my hotel room and lifted my baggage'. He grinned ruefully. 'Well, not just my baggage. They stole everything - literally everything'.
Kim Su-mi glanced at him sympathetically. 'Oh, but how dreadful for you'.
'Yeah'. Doyle beamed at her appreciatively. 'Can you imagine! I'd just got the one pair of jeans and a T-shirt . the things I stood up in'.
I could see he was going to make a meal of the incident, so I fed him a cue. 'What did you do? Take the next flight home?'
He gave me a grateful look. 'That's one thing the thief didn't steal from me - my vacation. I bought me a new outfit and just kept going'.
'But surely', said Kim Su-mi, 'you reported your loss to the police?'
'You're darned right I did'. He leaned forward. 'And here's the payoff. A week ago the police picked up the guy who stole my stuff and emailed me to come here and claim it. I was in Beijing - just about to fly home. But you bet I came right back here - and fast'.
'You've had all your stuff returned, I hope?' I said.
'Everything except a pair of binoculars'.
'You're a lucky man, Mr Doyle'.
He shrugged. 'Glad you think so'.
'Don't get me wrong', I said. 'I didn't mean to .'
He waved me down with an outsize paw. 'Forget it, Mr Moon. In a catastrophic sort of way, guess I was kind of lucky'. He snapped his fingers at a passing waiter.
'The same again for my two friends. And you can make mine a Jack Daniels on the rocks'.I could have been wrong about tourists never having discovered the Chinese Dragon. The waiter smiled imperturbably, said, 'Cinzano, soju, and a Scotch on the rocks', and bustled off to the bar.
Doyle turned back to us with an amused smile. 'Guess that guy knows how many yuan go to the dollar!' He ripped back the zip of his bag. 'I was shopping all morning. Made some nice purchases too! Take a look at this'. He dived a hand into the bag and took out a Chinese doll. It was a stuffed cloth doll, a young girl dressed in national costume. 'Ain't that something, now?'
Kim Su-mi lips quivered in a slight smile. 'It's sweet'.
'Wait till I show you today's best buy. A real bargain. I bought it just along the street here'. He rummaged around the bag, not finding what he wanted. With an exasperated grunt he pulled out a Chinese auction catalogue and threw it on the table.
I glanced at the garish cover. 'Planning to have a little bit of China back home, Doyle?' I asked.
'Aw, that's for my brother', he said, then triumphantly produced an exquisitely designed chronometer and placed it on the table. 'Ain't that swell? You know what they call that? A chronometer. It's for sailors. Accurately measures the time so that you can determine your longitude when at sea. You just wind it up . like so .' He enjoyed himself winding it. 'Got it for my nephew, Su-Ji. He's quite the little engineer. At least, so his Mom says - I wouldn't know. I got no skill with math -'. Flicking the case, he set the chronometer going, and beat time with a pudgy finger. Then he stopped, and grinned self-consciously.
'Anyhow, it looks good!'
'It's beautiful', Kim Su-mi said breathlessly.
'Sure is! I've seen 'em back in the States, but never one like this'.
I wasn't just being polite when I said I'd never seen one with such delicate workmanship.
Doyle practically flapped his arms. 'I'm some picker!' he enthused. 'That must be the cutest chronograph in the whole world'.
'Chronometer', Kim Su-mi corrected softly, her eyes smiling at me.
Doyle offered me a cigar from a bulging case. When I'd declined he stuffed one in an outsize holder, clamped it between his teeth, and looked as happy as a child with a teat. That wasn't a bad description of his round, chubby face.
Then the waiter came with the drinks and over them we drifted into the cliche- ridden talk that passes for conversation, which it's a one woman two men party.