Milo March #16

Kendell Foster Crossen, M.E. Chaber

Description

Milo March is sipping a martini at the pool of the Far Eastern Hotel, a lovely British blonde on his left and a Chinese beauty on his right, both in bikinis. What more could a man require? But then he is rudely interrupted by a call from Intercontinental Insurance in New York. They have a serious case that only he, their best investigator, can tackle. As usual, many millions of dollars are at stake. A large, well-organized ring is transporting stolen goods from the U.S. to Red China via Hong Kong. Milo doesn’t doubt that organized crime is responsible, and he is determined to put and end to the whole operation—not only the stealing, but the dealing with an enemy country. 



Milo persists with plodding but dangerous work, then suddenly, when he gets warm around the edges, he springs into  action. Assuming a secret identity as a tough loner named “John Milo,” he hangs out at a couple of bars frequented by con men. The V.O. and martinis keep flowing as he waits to make a connection to the smuggling ring.  Through an unpleasant police informer described as a “sick bulldog,” Milo makes a deal with a couple of men peddling stolen liquor, as this may lead him to the Syndicate men responsible for the smuggling. It does, but it also lands him in jail, charged with conspiracy to receive stolen property, possession of stolen property, and three counts of burglary—another day in the life of John Milo. Out on bail, Milo continues his quest and manages to land a job as a bagman for a Mafia don. Before closing the case, Milo will spar with some tough customers. A weasel-faced punk will stick a gun in Milo’s back, and someone will get badly injured. Milo will get lucky in Vegas and even luckier with the sensational woman known as the Dragon Lady of Hong Kong. And at the end, Milo will get a promised $20,000 bonus whether he solves the case or not. The latter outcome is highly unlikely…

Sujets

• Detectives
• Cold War
• Thriller
• Pulp Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Steeger Books
• Date de parution: 26 mars 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9791220283991
• Langue: English

Extrait

A Man in the Middle
by
Kendell Foster Crossen
Writing as M.E. Chaber
With an Afterword by Kendra Crossen Burroughs

Steeger Books / 2020
Copyright Information

Published by Steeger Books
Visit steegerbooks.com for more books like this.

©1995, 2020 by Kendra Crossen Burroughs
The unabridged novel has been lightly edited by Kendra Crossen Burroughs.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.

Publishing History

Hardcover
New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston (A Rinehart Suspense Novel), August 1967.
Toronto: Holt, Rinehart & Winston of Canada, 1967.
Detective Book Club #309, January 1968. (With Woman on the Roof by Mignon G. Eberhart and Who Saw Maggie Brown? by Kelley Roos.)

Paperback
New York: Paperback Library (63-203), A Milo March Mystery, #2: January 1970. Cover by Robert McGinnis.
Dedication
For Lisa, the girl in the middle—of my heart.
One

There’s nothing like a vacation. I was on my second one within a month. The first had started in Los Angeles but had been interrupted by a demand that I do some work. I did it and found it profitable. Then I collected two very nice checks and took off for Hong Kong without telling anyone where I was going. I thought I was being pretty clever.
My vacation was enhanced by the fact that I was sitting at the pool of the Far Eastern Hotel. There was a dry martini in my hand, a lovely British blonde on my left, and a beautiful Chinese girl on my right. Both wore bikinis. What more could a man require?
In Hong Kong I am often called March hsien, which is about the same as “Mr. March.” In New York City, where I work as an insurance investigator, I am called Milo March—and sometimes more informal names. I get paid for being called the other names—plus expenses. The last is my piece of the Great Society.
I had been in Hong Kong for three days and was looking forward to at least two more weeks of no work, no phone calls, and plenty of whatever I felt like, when there was a rude interruption. From somewhere a loudspeaker squawked into life.
“Mr. Milo March,” it said with a very British accent. “Telephone call for Mr. Milo March.”
Well, I did know a few people in Hong Kong. I put down the martini, excused myself to the two girls, and went to the nearest phone. I picked up the receiver and said, “Milo March.”
“One moment, please,” the operator said.
I waited and then heard a voice I recognized. “Milo, boy, how are you?” it said. It belonged to Martin Raymond, a vice-president of Intercontinental Insurance in New York City. I did most of my work for them. I had no idea how he’d found me.
“So sorry,” I said in my best Oriental manner, “Mr. March not here. He leave for Singapore. He say he going for a gin sling. Good-bye now.” I hung up and went back to the two girls and the martini.
A few minutes later the loudspeaker rasped out my name again. This time I ignored it. The blonde was in the pool and the Chinese girl was talking about a wonderful restaurant where we could have dinner. It was much more interesting than talking to Martin Raymond. I could do without him.
That was what I thought. My name was called three more times within the next hour. I paid no attention. Then the calls stopped and I thought I was home free. I made a date with the Chinese girl and went to my room to get ready. I had a bottle of V.O. in my room, so I had some ice sent up, had a small drink, and then went in to shower and shave.
When I came out, I put on my shorts and made another drink. I lit a cigarette and relaxed while I enjoyed my drink, but I didn’t get much time for it. Someone knocked on my door.
I walked over to it. “Who’s there?” I asked without opening the door.
“Inspector John Simmons, Her Majesty’s Police. I would like to speak with you, Mr. March.”
I thought for a minute and then I remembered him. I had been on a case in Hong Kong four or five years before and I had worked with him. I opened the door and let him in, recognizing him as soon as I saw him.
“Hello, Inspector,” I said. “I hope you’ll excuse my attire.”
“Quite all right, old boy. I should have phoned, but there wasn’t much time.”
I ignored the implication. “Sit down, Inspector. May I offer you a spot?”
He glanced at his watch. “Perhaps a small one. With water. No ice.”
I made a drink and handed it to him, then retreated to my own chair and picked up my glass. “To old memories, Inspector. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” he repeated. He drank and put his glass down. “It has been some time, hasn’t it, Mr. March? The last time you were here it was about jade. What is it this time?”
“A vacation.”
His eyebrows went up. “Really? I thought you Americans never took holidays.”
“We do,” I said cheerfully. “Why are you here, Inspector?”
He looked at his watch again. “It is true,” he said stiffly, “that when you were last here you performed a certain service for us, but in a manner which we found most distasteful. If you will recall, I thanked you for what you had done, but suggested it might be well if you left Hong Kong as speedily as possible.”
“I recall. What does that have to do with my present visit?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “It has been impressed upon me that in certain quarters you may be considered an undesirable alien.”
“You mean you want me to leave Hong Kong?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Oh,” I said. I poured myself another drink. “A bit more, Inspector?”
“No, thank you.”
“It seems that we come to the core of the matter,” I said. “You want something from me. Is that it, Inspector?”
“I’m only doing my duty, Mr. March.”
“I know. I’m only trying to find out what your duty is at the moment. Are you going to tell me, or is it top secret?”
He looked at his watch for the third time, then took a deep breath. “I do not like this any better than you do, Mr. March,” he said, “but I’ve been asked to tell you that within the next ten minutes you will receive a phone call. It is requested that you speak with the man who is calling and consider what he has to say—or you may be asked to leave Hong Kong immediately.”
I laughed “Inspector, have they reduced you to being an errand boy?”
His face stiffened. “I think I will have another spot after all, if you don’t mind.”
I poured another drink for him. “I’m sorry, Inspector. I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at someone else. All right. I’ll take the phone call. Relax and enjoy your drink. Do you know what this is all about, Inspector?”
“I do not, Mr. March. I received my orders and that was all.”
“I think I can guess, but we’ll soon find out.”
The phone rang. I lit a cigarette before I picked it up. “Yeah,” I said.
“Milo, boy,” said Martin Raymond, “how are you?”
“I don’t know about me, but I can tell you about you,” I said. I then went ahead and told him until I ran out of breath.
“That’s my boy,” he said, “anything for a laugh.”
What do you do with a man like that?
“How did you find out where I was?” I asked.
“That was easy, Milo. You had to use your passport and you had to buy a ticket on an airline.”
“Now we come to the big question,” I said. “I refused to take your earlier calls. Now there is a very uncomfortable policeman sitting across from me who just finished informing me that I should accept this call or I might be expelled as an undesirable alien. How was that arranged?”
“I’m not quite sure,” he said. “Happily, I remembered the name of a friend of yours in Washington. He has some private interest in Intercontinental, and I believe he hopes to retire eventually and take a place on our board. I explained the situation to him, and he offered to see what he could do. It was most kind of him.”
“Wasn’t it? What is the situation and what is on what we laughingly call your mind?”
“Well, we do have a problem and we do need your help.”
“You forget that I am on my vacation, the same one I was supposed to be on before, when I was in Los Angeles.”
“I know, my boy. I—we—regret interfering, but it is a crisis. You owe us some loyalty, Milo. We are calling on that now. Of course, you will be well paid, including a generous bonus if you break the case.”
“You’re not just talking,” I said. “What’s the case?”
“There is a ring operating. We now suspect that it is very well organized on an international basis. There are nationwide thefts here in the States, and there is a general suspicion that a high percentage of the goods are going from here to Hong Kong and then on to Red China. Almost everything involved so far has been insured by Intercontinental.”
“Interesting. What are the goods?”
“Almost everything—business machines of all kinds, drugs of all kinds, television and radio sets. As near as we can learn, these things pour into the Los Angeles area from all over the country, then vanish. But we’re pretty sure they go to Hong Kong and spread out from there.”
“Who are ‘we’?”
“Well, we’ve made preliminary investigations, of course. Then we understand that various local police, as well as the FBI, are thinking along the same lines.”
“You say you think it’s organized. Do you just happen to mean the Syndicate?”
“Something like that.”
“Hundreds of cops are falling on their faces,” I said, “and you are calling on good old Milo March to come in as a single linebacker. Is