Fathom Page #4

Come, we will go ashore.

Ashore? Now?

Yes. I must meet

a gentleman from London.

The result of our meeting

may recompense me...

for the more gentle plunder

you have denied me here.

Uh... Sergei?

Dovchik.

Dovchik.

Oh, you're so cool.

Fire! Fire!

Fire, master! Fire! Fire!

Don't you ever knock?

Sorry, sir.

There is fire in the engine room.

- Go quickly,

before the fuel tanks explode.

Hurry, mistress! Hurry!

You will fetch my flask of brandy.

Don't worry. We will wait.

- Vamonos.

- Okay.

Somebody has to fight the fire.

Friends of the bride?

Bride's not that sporty.

I'd say friends of the groom.

The wedding will be interesting,

particularly

the exchange of gifts.

Look out!

Turn, turn, turn!

Turn!

On the left!

On the left, imbecile!

On the right!

On the right!

Turn, you fool!

It's amazing the fish you can pull

from the sea if you're just patient.

- This fish feels a bit shaky. - Any

fish would with what you were carrying.

- We'll cut it open back at the trailer.

- All right.

Merriwether. He never gives up,

even when he's lost.

Keep following, chum.

Colonel Campbell's got a nice

reception committee waiting for you.

Look out!

- Leaving so soon, dear?

- Get out of my way.

That's not a bit polite.

Nice girls always stay for breakfast.

- Please, get away from the door. - But

then, you're not a nice girl, are you?

Whoa. Hold it, poppet.

- Hold it.

- She's killed my missus!

She's killed my missus!

You're getting a bad reputation. Every time

you show up here, somebody ends up dead.

- I didn't mean to. - I gave you the

benefit of the doubt yesterday.

There's none today. Jo.

I hate bad jokes.

What did you do with the Fire Dragon?

Did you give it to Campbell?

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- Your boyfriend's in the hospital.

There's no one here to help you.

Hey, don't underrate us.

We let you go to Serapkin.

We wanted you

to do our dirty work.

Then you and your boyfriend

pulled a switch.

Last time.

Where is it? Hmm?

I said, "Where is it?"

I said...

Hey!

Hey!

It's all right.

Jo. Trivers, take that door.

- Where's Campbell?

- Oh!

Poppet, over here.

Quick, give me your hand.

- The Fire Dragon, where is it?

- I don't know!

Try to remember.

Who's going to get tired first,

you or the bull?

Aah! Toro!

Toro!

You owe me something,

ducks, for my missus.

You'd better answer

those questions.

Make it easy on yourself, poppet.

You're young.

Life can be fun.

It's a beautiful world.

Then why do you wanna blow it up?

Isn't that a bit melodramatic?

What are H-bombs?

Light comedy?

H-bombs? How the devil did H-bombs

creep into this cozy chat?

H-bombs, fail safe devices.

What's the difference?

We're all after the same thing!

I'll die before

I help you get it!

Aah! Toro!

Aah! Toro! Toro! Aah!

Hey, Trivers, give her a hand.

Aah! Aah!

Toro! Aah!

Yaah!

Whoa, whoa.

- Thank you.

- Anytime.

Drink your coffee, poppet,

and listen to a strange story.

It begins quite a time ago,

during the Korean War.

There was an officer with the U.N.

forces who was listed missing in action.

He wasn't missing at all. He just

walked across the lines one night...

and gave himself up

to the Chinese.

He had a crazy scheme.

His name was Douglas Campbell.

Interested?

Pass the sugar, please.

His objective

was to get to Peking,

but crossing the lines that night,

he stepped on a mine.

He was nearly killed. The next three

years-a hospital in Sinkiang Province.

- Accounting neatly for his tin leg.

- Skepticism duly noted.

However, he convinced them of his reliability

by then and was sent to Hankow University.

He was still

a long way from Peking.

But I have a feeling

you'll get him there.

Oh, yeah. It took him

quite a while, but he got there.

One rainy day he took a stroll to

the virtually unguarded Imperial Museum.

He walked inside

carrying a large guidebook.

Five minutes later,

he walked out again.

In the hollowed-out interior of

that guidebook was his glittering prize.

- Prize?

- Mm-hmm.

The needle in our haystack,

poppet... the Fire Dragon.

The most important piece from the

ancient treasure of the Ming Dynasty.

But if Campbell's

a jewel thief, who are you?

A creature of circumstance. Well,

look at the spot the Chinese were in.

They could hardly call up Interpol

or any Western government...

and say, "One of our

national treasures is missing."

Unthinkable loss of face.

So they did the only thing

they could do... they came to us.

Peter Merriwether and Company.

Enquiry agents.

21 Marlborough Street, Hong Kong.

In our lingo-private eye.

He fooled us too, poppet,

more than once.

He gave us the slip in Honk Kong

and again in Manila.

Next stop:
San Francisco.

There he devised

a master stroke.

Bribed some sap

of an air force type...

to smuggle it

halfway across the world.

Destination:
Ankara,

where it was to be broken up.

- It might've worked too, except for a fantastic

mischance. - The atom bomber that blew up.

Right.

Like Campbell, we thought the

Fire Dragon was irretrievably lost...

until two weeks ago,

when a young scuba diver, Kurt Wolff,

fished it right out

of the Mediterranean.

We were about to make a deal

with Kurt when...

Well, you know what happened.

Mr. Serapkin got there first.

Uh-oh.

What's the matter?

Don't turn around. A black Fiat.

Been following us since Malaga.

Serapkin 7

Or Campbell. What do you think

brought him to Spain?

That's his system...

robber follows cops. Hold tight.

Is this death grip

entirely necessary? - Shh, shh, shh!

- I'm protecting you. - The way you incited

that bull to make hamburger meat out of me?

Don't hold that against me. At that point

I assumed you were on Campbell's side.

I never dreamed we'd be forming

our partnership, partner.

Hold the phone, Merriwether.

What makes you think I buy your story?

- Because of my devastating sincerity.

- Ha!

Yeah, it shines like a candle

in this naughty world.

I'm sorry, but all you've shown me

so far is a slightly used calling card.

I'm not jumping out of one traffic jam

to get crunched in another.

I'm afraid a crunch is

exactly what you're in. Yeah.

That cabbage head of Serapkin's,

that's a pointless joke,

unless he knew we expected

to find the Fire Dragon.

Either way,

he knows where it is.

Go ask him, okay?

Go to Serapkin?

I'd rather go back into the bullring.

I'm suggesting it

as penance, poppet,

penance for the eighth

deadly sin... gullibility.

How much are you getting

for this job anyway, Merriwether?

- Hundred thousand dollars.

- Good-bye, Mr. Merriwether.

Okay, here's another reason

why you'll help me:

If you don't, I'll turn you

over to the cops.

Mrs. Trivers. Remember?

Crawl back under your rock.

You're making a nice, fat target.

That mysterious black Fiat,

it never was following us, was it?

But I rather doubted you'd fall for

the "running out of gas" bit.

And I did want

to get close to you.

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