A thin, stoop-shouldered young Chinese looked up as Johnny Liddell entered the office of the Hat S’oy Yen Trading Company. He peered at him through thick-lensed glasses. “You wish to see somebody, sir?” His voice was sing-songy, shrill.
“I’m a friend of Jimmy Kaiming. He told me somebody would be expecting me here.”
The Chinese nodded his head several times. “I have been expecting you, sir.” He signaled for an elderly Chinese to take his place at the books he had been poring over. “I have had my instructions. You will please come with me.”
He led the way to the street, passed a group of stores, stopped in front of one store whose windows were piled high with a miscellany of junk. Inside, a man was sitting at a white enameled kitchen table that served as a desk, painting Chinese characte
