Loot of the Shanung E-Book

L. Ron Hubbard

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Serie: Action Adventure Short Stories Collection
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Seitenzahl: 132

Beschreibung

Stop the presses! One hundred thousand dollar reward offered for the return of George Harley Rockham!

That’s more than enough to turn Shanghai newspaperman Jimmy Vance’s head. Throw in the gorgeous dame who’s offering the reward—Rockham’s daughter Virginia—and he might lose his head altogether.

As fast-talking as Jimmy Stewart in The Philadelphia Story, Vance jumps at the chance . . . the money . . . and the girl.

But as Jimmy quickly discovers, there are several billion reasons to watch his back. Because that’s how much Rockham is worth, and there are some very hard cases out there willing to kill to separate the old man from his money.

Next thing Jimmy knows, Virginia’s tied to a chair, and he’s got a couple of guns pointed at his head. But it’ll take more than a little rope and a couple of firearms to keep this reporter down. The truth is tied to the mysterious fate of a steamship named Shanung—and what Jimmy finds could be the biggest story of his life . . . if he lives to tell it.

In the issue of Smashing Novels where this story first appeared the editor wrote: “Loot of the Shanung is a soul-stirring tale of the China Sea, a story of modern piracy set in the Far East. L. Ron Hubbard wrote it. He knows China. He has been there. He traveled through the country and met the people and observed their customs. Smashing Novels will have other stories from him—stories of far-off places and little known people. He knows of what he writes.”

Leseprobe

SELECTED FICTION WORKSBY L. RON HUBBARD

FANTASY

The Case of the Friendly Corpse

Death’s Deputy

Fear

The Ghoul

The Indigestible Triton

Slaves of Sleep & The Masters of Sleep

Typewriter in the Sky

The Ultimate Adventure

SCIENCE FICTION

Battlefield Earth

The Conquest of Space

The End Is Not Yet

Final Blackout

The Kilkenny Cats

The Kingslayer

The Mission Earth Dekalogy*

Ole Doc Methuselah

To the Stars

ADVENTURE

The Hell Job series

WESTERN

Buckskin Brigades

Empty Saddles

Guns of Mark Jardine

Hot Lead Payoff

A full list of L. Ron Hubbard’snovellas and short stories is provided at the back.

*Dekalogy: a group of ten volumes

Published by Galaxy Press, LLC 7051 Hollywood Boulevard, Suite 200 Hollywood, CA 90028

© 2013 L. Ron Hubbard Library. All rights reserved.

Any unauthorized copying, translation, duplication, importation or distribution, in whole or in part, by any means, including electronic copying, storage or transmission, is a violation of applicable laws.

Mission Earth is a trademark owned by L. Ron Hubbard Library and is used with permission. Battlefield Earth is a trademark owned by Author Services, Inc. and is used with permission.

Horsemen illustration from Western Story Magazine is © and ™ Condé Nast Publications and is used with their permission. Fantasy, Far-Flung Adventure and Science Fiction illustrations: Unknown and Astounding Science Fiction copyright © by Street & Smith Publications, Inc. Reprinted with permission of Penny Publications, LLC. Story Preview cover art and illustration: Argosy Magazine is © 1936 Argosy Communications, Inc. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission from Argosy Communications, Inc.

ISBN 978-1-59212-583-8 EPUB versionISBN 978-1-59212-770-2 Kindle versionISBN 978-1-59212-289-9 print versionISBN 978-1-59212-312-4 audiobook version

Library of Congress Control Number: 2007903619

Contents

FOREWORD

LOOT OF THE SHANUNG

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

STORY PREVIEW

MISTER TIDWELL, GUNNER

L. RON HUBBARD IN THE GOLDEN AGE OF PULP FICTION

THE STORIES FROM THE GOLDEN AGE

GLOSSARY

FOREWORD

Stories from Pulp Fiction’s Golden Age

AND it was a golden age.

The 1930s and 1940s were a vibrant, seminal time for a gigantic audience of eager readers, probably the largest per capita audience of readers in American history. The magazine racks were chock-full of publications with ragged trims, garish cover art, cheap brown pulp paper, low cover prices—and the most excitement you could hold in your hands.

“Pulp” magazines, named for their rough-cut, pulpwood paper, were a vehicle for more amazing tales than Scheherazade could have told in a million and one nights. Set apart from higher-class “slick” magazines, printed on fancy glossy paper with quality artwork and superior production values, the pulps were for the “rest of us,” adventure story after adventure story for people who liked to read. Pulp fiction authors were no-holds-barred entertainers—real storytellers. They were more interested in a thrilling plot twist, a horrific villain or a white-knuckle adventure than they were in lavish prose or convoluted metaphors.

The sheer volume of tales released during this wondrous golden age remains unmatched in any other period of literary history—hundreds of thousands of published stories in over nine hundred different magazines. Some titles lasted only an issue or two; many magazines succumbed to paper shortages during World War II, while others endured for decades yet. Pulp fiction remains as a treasure trove of stories you can read, stories you can love, stories you can remember. The stories were driven by plot and character, with grand heroes, terrible villains, beautiful damsels (often in distress), diabolical plots, amazing places, breathless romances. The readers wanted to be taken beyond the mundane, to live adventures far removed from their ordinary lives—and the pulps rarely failed to deliver.

In that regard, pulp fiction stands in the tradition of all memorable literature. For as history has shown, good stories are much more than fancy prose. William Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, Jules Verne, Alexandre Dumas—many of the greatest literary figures wrote their fiction for the readers, not simply literary colleagues and academic admirers. And writers for pulp magazines were no exception. These publications reached an audience that dwarfed the circulations of today’s short story magazines. Issues of the pulps were scooped up and read by over thirty million avid readers each month.

Because pulp fiction writers were often paid no more than a cent a word, they had to become prolific or starve. They also had to write aggressively. As Richard Kyle, publisher and editor of Argosy, the first and most long-lived of the pulps, so pointedly explained: “The pulp magazine writers, the best of them, worked for markets that did not write for critics or attempt to satisfy timid advertisers. Not having to answer to anyone other than their readers, they wrote about human beings on the edges of the unknown, in those new lands the future would explore. They wrote for what we would become, not for what we had already been.”

Some of the more lasting names that graced the pulps include H. P. Lovecraft, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Robert E. Howard, Max Brand, Louis L’Amour, Elmore Leonard, Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, Erle Stanley Gardner, John D. MacDonald, Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein—and, of course, L. Ron Hubbard.

In a word, he was among the most prolific and popular writers of the era. He was also the most enduring—hence this series—and certainly among the most legendary. It all began only months after he first tried his hand at fiction, with L. Ron Hubbard tales appearing in Thrilling Adventures,Argosy,Five-Novels Monthly,Detective Fiction Weekly,Top-Notch,Texas Ranger,War Birds,Western Stories, even Romantic Range. He could write on any subject, in any genre, from jungle explorers to deep-sea divers, from G-men and gangsters, cowboys and flying aces to mountain climbers, hard-boiled detectives and spies. But he really began to shine when he turned his talent to science fiction and fantasy of which he authored nearly fifty novels or novelettes to forever change the shape of those genres.

Following in the tradition of such famed authors as Herman Melville, Mark Twain, Jack London and Ernest Hemingway, Ron Hubbard actually lived adventures that his own characters would have admired—as an ethnologist among primitive tribes, as prospector and engineer in hostile climes, as a captain of vessels on four oceans. He even wrote a series of articles for Argosy, called “Hell Job,” in which he lived and told of the most dangerous professions a man could put his hand to.

Finally, and just for good measure, he was also an accomplished photographer, artist, filmmaker, musician and educator. But he was first and foremost a writer, and that’s the L. Ron Hubbard we come to know through the pages of this volume.

This library of Stories from the Golden Age presents the best of L. Ron Hubbard’s fiction from the heyday of storytelling, the Golden Age of the pulp magazines. In these eighty volumes, readers are treated to a full banquet of 153 stories, a kaleidoscope of tales representing every imaginable genre: science fiction, fantasy, western, mystery, thriller, horror, even romance—action of all kinds and in all places.

Because the pulps themselves were printed on such inexpensive paper with high acid content, issues were not meant to endure. As the years go by, the original issues of every pulp from Argosy through Zeppelin Stories continue crumbling into brittle, brown dust. This library preserves the L. Ron Hubbard tales from that era, presented with a distinctive look that brings back the nostalgic flavor of those times.

L. Ron Hubbard’s Stories from the Golden Age has something for every taste, every reader. These tales will return you to a time when fiction was good clean entertainment and the most fun a kid could have on a rainy afternoon or the best thing an adult could enjoy after a long day at work.

Pick up a volume, and remember what reading is supposed to be all about. Remember curling up with a great story.

—Kevin J. Anderson

KEVIN J. ANDERSON is the author of more than ninety critically acclaimed works of speculative fiction, including The Saga of Seven Suns, the continuation of the Dune Chronicles with Brian Herbert, and his New York Times bestselling novelization of L. Ron Hubbard’s Ai! Pedrito!

Loot of the Shanung

CHAPTER ONE

Billions at Stake

THE press releases flowed across the desk in a miniature Yangtze at flood time. The office of the Oriental Press throbbed with effort and excitement.

Jimmy Vance, both hands full and a pencil between his teeth, stared up at the copy boy. “Here y’are. Tell them to run this on the first page. I’ll hand the fills over in a few minutes. About his life and all.”

“A lady to see you, Jimmy,” said the copy boy.

“The devil with that. Where’d I put that Who’s Who?”

The Who’s Who came to light when it was going down for the third time in the tan copy paper. Jimmy flipped it open, swept his very blond hair out of his eyes, and ran his finger down the column.

“George Harley Rockham,” said the Who’s Who. “Born 1890 in Chicago, Ill. Appointed to Russian Wheat Commission, 1919. Served as Secretary of Interior, 1924–6. Held oil leases in Regular Oil Company. Developed vast holdings in South America. Created an oil monopoly in China, 1928. Known best through his hobby of travel. Married Virginia Courtney in 1908. His daughter, Miss Virginia Rockham, has long been known to Long Island Society….”

“Huh,” said Jimmy, “that’s plenty. Plenty.” He grabbed at his battered typewriter, inserted half a dozen sheets after the custom of copywriters and began to hammer the keys in an industrious hunt-and-punch system.

The copy boy, bucktoothed and mostly grin, was at his elbow again. “Jimmy. That dame says she won’t wait. You got to see her. Here’s the card.”

“Busy,” said Jimmy, continuing to write.

“She’s a swell looker,” informed the copy boy. “Real class.”

“Beat it,” said Jimmy, scowling at the Who’s Who.

His story grew out of the roller:

Shanghai, China, May 14, Oriental Press. As the fate of George Harley Rockham, the great oil magnate, tonight remained shrouded with mystery, his many friends over the world watched anxiously for the first news.

Jimmy scratched his head, scowled at the sheet and then wrote:

It is debated that he still lives. The coastal steamer Shanung has not appeared in Hong Kong, and while there are no storms recorded north of that city, it is thought that the Shanung might have foundered, run aground or met any other perils of the sea.

Rumor is current that the Shanung was captured by the notorious pirates who range along Bias Bay, a few miles north of Hong Kong. This is only one of many conjectures that …

The copy boy was there again, still grinning. “That dame gave me a five-spot to see you, Jimmy. Y’can’t let me down now. I need five Mex and if you don’t see her I’ll have to give it back.”

“Scram,” said Jimmy, pondering anew. He was about to consult the Who’s Who for further rumors, conjectures and so on when he became aware of a pair of hands on the railing before his desk.

He stopped, looking absently at the fingers. They were nice hands. White and graceful, with long, naturally polished nails. A diamond ring glittered, but it wasn’t on the engagement finger.

Jimmy was suddenly interested. He looked up the arms and discovered a Cossack jacket with silver cartridge cases. He looked at the high Russian collar and then saw the face.

The face, decided Jimmy, was very pleasing. The girl’s eyes were dark, rather wistful and sad. Her cheekbones were high, giving an air of severity to the features. But the fullness of the good-natured mouth belied that.

“You’re Jimmy Vance?” said the girl, very quietly.

“Yes,” said Jimmy and then instantly recovered himself. “If you’re looking for the society editor, he’s first corridor to your right.” He turned back to his work, not meaning to be rude, but aware of the necessity of stopping the study of the girl.

He was about to write another paragraph on the story when he saw the card the boy had laid beside his typewriter. The card was simply engraved. It said, “Virginia Rockham.”

Jimmy’s eyes flashed up. It was one of the few times in Jimmy’s headlong career that he registered surprise. He jumped to his feet and swung the gate back.

“Good golly, Miss Rockham. I’m sorry as the devil. I thought you must be one of these Ruskies, the way you’re dressed. I didn’t have any idea … Here, have a chair. Now listen, Miss Rockham, I’ve got to have some dope here before I can go on.”

She was mildly surprised at his manner. Jimmy usually gave the impression of a meteor in full flight. He was not so very tall and he seemed utterly without color. His eyes were big and swift and frank. He had the air of hurrying even when sitting still. Restlessly, he offered her a cigarette and then lit one for himself when she refused.

“Dope, Miss Rockham. The presses are grinding, the boys are waiting on the streets. The international cables are holding down their keys, waiting for this stuff. I’ve heard opinions, I’ve heard theories, and now, by golly, I want to hear some facts.”

“I … I don’t know any more than you do, Mr. Vance.”

“The hell you don’t!” Jimmy was plainly aghast. “Well … well … think of something, anything. I’ve written columns on it already and I’ve had to make up each and every word. Good God, Miss Rockham, a billionaire doesn’t disappear like that. Even out here in China. He has to be someplace. Even a Chinese pirate would know how much he was worth in ransom. Think, girl!”

She was studying Jimmy, listening to his voice rather than his words. Her dark eyes were suddenly alight. She sat forward.

“You’re the Jimmy Vance, aren’t you?” she said.

He was thrown into no little confusion, but he recovered quickly. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re the man who makes news news, aren’t you? The star reporter of the Oriental Press, the bearder of warlords and the formulator of international opinions.”

Jimmy gaped at her. “Gee whiz, Miss Rockham … I … Somebody has been feeding you a line. Look here, Miss Rockham, I got to have something for the presses, the cables. I got to have fact, not fancy. What happened to your father?”

“He was on the SSShanung. The Shanung isn’t reported. That’s all I know.”

“But look here. I mean what’s the well-known lowdown? What’s he tied up with? Who’s trying to get him? What’s hanging over his head?”

“I thought … thought you’d know something about it,” she replied.

“Me? Why should I know anything? I’m just a dumb reporter, Miss Rockham. I admit I’ve had a few breaks, but does that make a clairvoyant out of me? Hell, no. I mean to say, I don’t know anything and I’m writing guesses.”

“This is big news, isn’t it?”

“Big news? Gee whiz, Miss Rockham, I’ll say it is. Might as well have the president of the United States disappear as George Harley Rockham. He’s got China oil in his palm. He owns more men and more companies than a nation. What made him disappear?”

“He went down to Hong Kong to look over some interests there. That’s all I know.”

Jimmy leaned tensely over his typewriter. “Where was he before that?”

“Chinwangtao.”

“Up next to Manchukuo, right? What’s he own in Manchukuo?”

“I’m not certain.”

Jimmy smiled a swift smile. “Then he does own something. Why did—?”