Sinkiang, Nationalist China
November 20th, 1936
Dennis Nayland Smith was standing in the middle of the road, awaiting the arrival of the truck they had spotted a few minutes ago with his binoculars. On the serpentine mountain road, it wasn’t making good speed, so the two Secret Service agents and their archeologist companion had had plenty of time to set up their ambush.
After hearing the story of Tze and Jiang, Nayland Smith had decided that it was imperative to learn more, either about the “Jade Fever”, the “Soul of the Dragon” or about the whereabouts of Dr Fu Manchu himself. This would require them to follow up the one lead they had on the Devil Doctor; the Shanghai mobster Lao Che, who had, in all probability, procured the ashes of Emperor Nurachi for Fu Manchu.
Also, there was the matter re-insertion: it was far easier to get into Sinkiang by air than out, so it was assumed that the agents would find their own way back to British-held territory. In this context, travelling through the densely populated areas of eastern China, where westerners were commonplace back to Hong Kong seemed a much better option than trying to hike south through Tibet and over the Himalayas to India, however closer that British possession might have been as the bird flies.
Indy was hiding in the ditch next to the road, and continued to observe the truck through the binoculars. Suddenly lowering them, he spat angrily on the ground.
‘I can’t believe it! That truck is carrying German markings, and I think the drivers wear German uniforms!’
Nayland Smith nodded. ‘Probably from the German military mission. I thought the mission was strictly a question of material aid and advisors. I can’t believe the Germans are allowed to have uniformed troops in Nationalist territory.’
‘You should talk!’ Indy answered indignantly. ‘While you were having your tea, the Germans had secreted in a not-so-small army into Egypt, which you guys are supposed to control! You can’t imagine what they had me go through there last autumn.’
Nayland Smith winced, like in pain. ‘I know, I know. Somewhere, somehow, someone had a less than sterling performance on that particular issue. I assure you, there’s a
thorough investigation of the whole affair going on at His Majesty’s Secret Service.’
‘Less than sterling performance? Less than sterling performance!? The Nazi’s were walking around on the streets of Alexandria, in uniform and toting machine guns, for crying out loud! You’d think that SOMEONE in authority would have at least noticed! Less than sterling performance, my A…
‘Don’t tell me, I know.’ Nayland Smith sighed. ‘I can’t explain it either. Oh, how the mighty have fallen…’
‘In any case, I hate those guys!’ Indy said fiercely, loosening the .38 in its holster. ‘OK, here they come! Look lively!’ He ducked down into the ditch.
On a commanding position atop a cliff overlooking the road, James Bond observed through the scope of his sniper rifle how Indy took cover in the roadside ditch and Nayland Smith, waving his hands walked a few steps towards the approaching truck, a Krupp unless he was mistaken. Still in tweeds, Nayland Smith looked thoroughly out of place in the wild mountainous landscape.
The Krupp truck came to a halt in front of a waving Nayland Smith, and the driver and another German soldier stepped out, a suspicious look on their faces.
The Krupp truck, a workhorse of the Wehrmacht
‘Ja? Vat do you vant?’
‘So good to see you, Gentlemen. My car broke down further up the road. Do you think you could take me along to the nearest city? I’d be forever in your debt.’
‘Aber…’
‘So very, very kind of you!’ Nayland Smith said, grabbing the driver’s right hand and pumping it in effusive salute.
That was Indy’s cue. He jumped up behind the driver’s companion and felled him with a mighty blow with the handle of the revolver to the back of his head. The distinctive cap fell off as the man tumbled unconscious to the ground with a loud grunt.
The driver turned around at the sound, but Nayland Smith extended a leg in front of his legs and swung him by the arm over it with all his considerable strength. The German went flying. As he struggled to get on his feet again, Indy ran forward and kicked him in the face, dropping him.
‘Hände hoch!’ a guttural bark came from behind, from the back of the truck. Jones and Nayland Smith whirled, facing the muzzles of two MP-28 sub-machineguns, brandished by as many German soldiers, which had jumped out of the back of the truck.
The MP-28 sub-machinegun was the predecessor of the better known MP-38/40
A lone shot echoed from the hilltop to the left. The leftmost of the Germans fell with a bullet through his head, while the other was hit in the thigh by the same bullet. As he fell, he let loose with his automatic weapon, making Indy and Nayland Smith jump for cover into the ditch and behind the truck respectively, with bullets spraying dirt around them as they moved.
On the hilltop, Bond quickly re-cocked his rifle and searched for a target. The German had taken cover behind the right side of the truck, and had Indy pinned down good. Nayland Smith was behind the front of truck, holding his Webley, but couldn’t get a shot without exposing himself.
‘Where would I be?’ mused Bond. Behind the tyre, was the obvious answer, it would afford the best cover and probably stop a bullet that would go through the wood of the platform. But his head would be sticking up above the rim of the tyre… just about
there! Bond aimed at a point on the fabric covering and fired.
The German, sitting with his back to the tyre never knew what hit him. Bond’s bullet tore through the wood behind him and went into the back of his head, exiting just below his chin. The man fell on his side without a sound.
‘That kid!’ Indy said, shaking his head in wonder. ‘He sure can shoot with the best! You can tell he’s a Jones!’
‘Don’t start with that again, Dr Jones, young Bond won’t take it lightly. Instead, help me strip off some uniforms that will fit us. That way we can drive this thing through the heart of China without attracting any undue attention.'
Indy nodded. ‘Shanghai, here we come! I can’t wait to see Lao Che’s face when he sees me alive!’
