Mike Resnick - Chronicles of Lucifer Jones Vol 2 1926-1931 Exploits

• Publisher: Kirinyaga, Inc. (October, 2010)
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0011817534
• ISBN: 9780011817538

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Theadventures of the Right Reverand Honorable Dr. Lucifer Jones in Asia,where he encounters an insidious Oriental dentist, the notoriousScorpion Lady, a detective with too many sons, the Abominable Snowman,the Land of Eternal Youth, secret sects bent on world domination, andmore.

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Biography
Anative of Chicago, Resnick attended the University of Chicago from 1959to 1961 where he met his future wife, Carol. The couple were married1961. In the 1960s and early 1970s, Resnick wrote more than 200 "adult"novels under pseudonyms, edited seven tabloid newspapers, and edited atrio of men's magazines. He also produced a weekly column on horseracing for more than a decade, and for eleven years wrote a monthlycolumn on purebred collies, which he and his wife bred and exhibited.His wife Carol is also a writer, as is his daughter, Laura Resnick, whois an award-winning science fiction and fantasy author. Resnick'spapers, consisting of at least 125 boxes, are in the SpecialCollections Library of the University of South Florida in Tampa. Hewill be the Guest of Honor at Chicon 7, the 2012 Worldcon to be held inChicago

The Chronicles of Lucifer Jones
Volume II1926-1931
EXPLOITS
by Mike Resnick
Being a Thrilling Chronicle of Romance, Danger, Spectacle, High Adventure, Narrow Escapes, and Uplifting Triumphs Over Sinister Villains and Mystic Mages in the Exotic Continent of the East, as Recounted by the Bold, Daring, Handsome and Modest Christian Gentleman Who Experienced Them

To Carol, as always,
And to my father
William Resnick
who initiated a chain of events half a century ago that culminated in the publication of this book

Table of Contents

1. The Master Detective

2. The Sin City Derby

3. The Insidious Oriental Dentist

4. The Great Wall

5. The Abominable Snowman

6. The Land of Eternal Youth

7. Secret Sex

8. The Flame of Bharatpur

9. The Scorpion Lady

10. The Other Master Detective

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Inspector Willie Wong , who has run out of names for his sons, and possesses a platitude for every occasion.

General Chang , a warlord's warlord.

Doctor Aristotle Ho , the Insidious Oriental Dentist, who plans to take over the world or lower south Brooklyn, whichever comes first.

Rupert Cornwall , a scoundrel with a passion for rubies, wealthy women, and duplicity.

Harvey Edwards , former halfback, now the fastest rickshaw puller in Macao.

Mr. Mako , diminutive Japanese detective who specializes in judo, disguise, archaeology and jealousy.

Cuddles , an authentic Chinese dragon.

The Scorpion Lady , a beautiful but deadly smuggler with a truly outstanding pair of lungs.

Sir Mortimer Edgerton-Smythe , who will stop at nothing to bring Doctor Aristotle Ho to justice.

Sam Hightower , a semi-abominable Snowman who is hiding out from the mob in the mountains of Tibet.

Capturing Clyde Calhoun , world-famous hunter who brings em back alive. Not intact, but alive.

Lisara , a 111-year-old virgin who has taken up the High Priestess trade.

Akbar , a learning-disabled elephant.

Lady Edith Quilton , the richest widow lady in Rajasthan Province.

And our narrator, The Right Reverend Honorable Doctor Lucifer Jones , a handsome, noble and resourceful Christian gentlemen who has certain unresolved disagreements with eight separate Asian governments over the finer points of the law.

1. The Master Detective

They say that there are a lot of differences between Hong Kong and some of the African cities I had recently left behind. Different people, different cultures, different buildings, even different food.

Of course, there are a lot of similarities, too. Same lack of consideration for those who are bold enough to tinker with the laws of statistical probability. Same steel bars in the local jail. Same concrete walls and floors. Same uncomfortable cots. Same awful food.

Truth to tell, I'd had a lot more time to consider the similarities than the differences. I'd gotten right off the boat from Portuguese East Africa, checked into the Luk Kwok Hotel (which thoughtfully rented its rooms by the hour, the night, or the week), spent the next hour in a local restaurant trying to down a bowl of soup with a pair of chopsticks, and then, realizing that my funds needed replenishing, I got involved in a friendly little game of chance involving two cubes of ivory with spots painted on them. It was when a third cube slipped out of my sleeve that I was invited to inspect the premises of the local jail.

That had been five days ago, and I had spent the intervening time alternately trying not to mind the smell of dead fish, which is what all of Hong Kong smelled like back in 1926, and gaining some comfort by reading my well-worn copy of the Good Book, which I ain't never without.

The girl that brought my grub to me was a charming little thing named Mei Sung. She was right impressed to be serving a man of the cloth, which I was back in those days, and I converted the bejabbers out of her three or four times a day, which made my incarceration in durance vile a mite easier to take.

As time crawled by I got to know my fellow inmates. There was a Turkish dentist who had gassed a British officer to death in what he assured me was an accident and would certainly have been construed as such by the courts if he hadn't appropriated the officer's wallet and wristwatch before reporting the poor fellow's untimely demise. There was a young Brazilian student who sweated up a storm and kept screaming things about anarchy and tyrants and such and keeping everyone awake. There were two Chinamen dressed all in black, who kept glaring at me every time I finished converting Mei Sung. There was a Frenchman who kept saying he was glad he had killed the chef, and that anyone who ruined sole almondine that badly deserved to die.

And there was me, the Right Reverend Honorable Doctor Lucifer Jones, out of Moline, Illinois by way of the Dark Continent, where I'd done my best to illuminate the dark, dreary lives of the godless black heathen despite certain minor disagreements with the constabularies of fourteen countries which culminated in my being asked to establish the Tabernacle of Saint Luke on some other land mass. But I already wrote that story, and I ain't going to go into it again, since anyone who's read it knows that I'm a righteous and God-fearing man who was just misunderstood.

On the fifth day of the thirty that I was to serve, they gave me a roommate, a well-dressed Australian with expensive-looking rings on all his fingers. His name was Rupert Cornwall, and he explained that he had come to Hong Kong because Australia was a pretty empty country and he liked crowds.

And what do you do for a living, Brother Rupert? I asked him, by way of being polite.

I'm an entrepreneur, he said. I put opportunists together with opportunities, and take a little percentage for my trouble.

I didn't know being an entrepreneur was a criminal offense in Hong King, I said.

I was arrested by mistake, he answered.

You, too?

Absolutely, he said. I expect to be out of here within the hour. And what about yourself? You look like a man of God with that turned-around collar of yours.

You hit the nail right on the head, Brother Rupert. That's what I am: a man of God, here to bring comfort and spiritual uplifting to the heathen.

What religion do you belong to? he asked.

One me and the Lord worked out betwixt ourselves one Sunday afternoon back in Illinois, I said. Hell, the way I see it, as long as we're upright and holy and got a poorbox, what's the difference?