The Concubine's Daughter (60 page)

She was still looking for Toby when a tall figure dressed in black pushed his way through the dance floor and walked toward her. There was a momentary lull in the chatter as the dancers instinctively drew aside to let him pass.

The reflections of the revolving ball made it difficult to see his face, but she felt a flash of warning in the slight rise and fall of his walk. Without asking permission, Ah-Keung sat down in the chair opposite her, his face gaunt but well groomed, his hair neatly trimmed yet as unruly as ever, standing straight as though charged with electricity. Along with a well-tailored black suit, he wore an extravagant wristwatch and a heavy gold ring with a large stone of pale green jade on the small finger of his left hand. He twisted the ring as he regarded her with mild curiosity.

“I have heard of the new
jarp-jung
hostess who has so quickly become queen of the Nine Dragons Ballroom,” Ah-Keung said. “I hear she has turned her back on her Chinese heritage to seek the ghost of a mysterious
gwai-lo
who does not exist.” His voice was calm, as though he were speaking to an old and trusted friend about an unsavory acquaintance. “A
jarp-jung
slut who chases an impossible dream. They say she is possessed by a demon … born of a fox fairy that hides among the bones of her bastard ancestors.” Only a slight rhythmic motion of his outstretched foot gave away his inner tension.

Sing replied with equal calm. “The boy who herded goats and searched the hills for herbs has done well … chosen by the taipan Ching
to protect his person. It makes me wonder why such as you would be seen in the streets of Wan-Chai.”

He showed no irritation at her insolence, clearly pleased by her perception of him. “There is nothing in these streets that is not known to the Yellow Dragon. The fat fool with the lucky thumbs has to report on those he employs. It seemed a strange coincidence; I thought I would see Number Twelve for myself. No one but the Little Star has the eyes of a ghost.”

His eyes crawled slowly over her, the same unblinking stare as
yan-jing-shi.
His unpleasant grin bared uneven teeth, cleaner now than she remembered them.

The expression on Sing’s face did not change, though she could suddenly taste bile in her throat.

Ah-Keung flashed the signet ring and wristwatch as he signaled the bar. Number Five came at once. “Brandy … the best old moneybags has hidden under the bar. This is no ordinary bar girl; a prized jewel such as she does not drink cold tea or Coca-Cola.”

Number Five looked at Sing with frightened eyes. “Ginger tea, please. I will not take brandy.”

“We have so much to say to each other, you and I. Did you not think I recognized the Little Star at the banquet for the foreign
bing
? Did you think me fool enough to make our secret known?” He laughed harshly, his outstretched foot slightly increasing its pace. He waited while Number Five set down the brandy and the tea.

“Do not hate me, Little Star. Did I not find you a roof to sleep under as I said I would?” He gave a snort of laughter. “Is it my fault that you did not please the Emperor of Sausages?”

“You sold me as a bond servant when I trusted you.”

He shrugged. “It was business. I filled your rice bowl; I had to fill my own. Could you have found a place to take you in if I had not? Far worse could have befallen you on the streets of Macao than the feeble flesh of Fat Fan.”

He reached across the table to cover her hand with his. “Besides, I knew you would find a way out. I have faith in the Red Lotus.”

The grin faded from his face as she drew her hand away from his touch. He swallowed his anger, reaching over to fill her cup, then sat back, swirling the brandy under his nose.

“I did not fear for the last disciple of Grand Master To-Tze. Surely Fan-Lu-Wei and his fat amahs could be easily dealt with by a warrior such as you? Did you not go on to be a pipe-maker in the Tavern of Cascading Jewels, favorite to the Golden One herself? And did you not learn things of great value from the Japanese
mama-san
?”

He lifted his glass in an exaggerated toast. “You were the chosen one of J. T. Ching, one of the richest men on the Golden Hill … you, the Red Lotus from the Rock of Great Strength.

“Let us drink to the Place of Clear Water, where the old ones are at peace.” He smirked as he swallowed the brandy and stood up, offering his hand. “But come—this is not the place to speak of such things. Let us go upstairs, where we can talk privately.”

Sing looked past his hand. “I will not go upstairs with you. I choose those I wish to speak with; they do not choose me.”

His face darkened visibly. “You will welcome me, if you do not want me to report you to a very angry taipan who is eager to find you.”

He withdrew his hand and looked her contemptuously up and down. “Master To chose the wrong disciple; you are obviously not a warrior but a whore. It is time that I prove this to be true.”

The cup of tea flung into Ah-Keung’s face caused heads to turn and Number Five to press the emergency button in her cubicle behind the bar. A sudden flush turned the Forceful One’s sallow face burning red.

“So the spirit of the Little Star has not been dimmed by squealing pigs or sleeping dragons.” The hand that shot out to grasp her wrist was swift as a lash. His other hand would have swept across her face and back in a double slap, but Sing blocked it and broke his grip with ease.

The elevator doors slid open. Three-thumbs Poon emerged with a bodyguard on each side. When they saw Ah-Keung, the guards stopped short, leaving Three-thumbs to proceed alone. Sing could smell his fear.

“Please, Ah-Gor.” Poon used the respectful title of “Elder Brother.” “I want no trouble. Tell me what has happened to displease you?”

Ah-Keung picked up a napkin to wipe his dripping face. “You can teach your whores some respect,” he hissed. “But I will deal with this one myself.”

The voice of Three-thumbs Poon was shrill with alarm. “Please, I beg of you. She is young and inexperienced. She has not yet learned. She will be punished for her disrespect.”

The orchestra had stopped playing, the voice of the singer trailing away with the sound of discordant strings. Ah-Keung’s fury seemed to slip away in the silence. “No. Do not punish her. We are old friends, Number Twelve and I. We have much to talk about. Perhaps the surprise was too much for her.”

He winked at Three-thumbs Poon. “I will be here tomorrow at this time. See that she is ready to receive me in your finest rooms as your most important guest … and that she shows me respect, or I will blame you for her bad manners.”

A new voice interrupted him. “It is you, my friend, who will learn some manners.” Toby Hyde-Wilkins stood two paces away. He had come from the stairs without being noticed. Sing’s heart clenched with fear for him.

Ah-Keung ignored him, addressing Three-thumbs directly. “What is this
gwai-lo
doing in the Nine Dragons?”

Toby flicked open his official wallet and held it up. “Government authority,” he snapped sharply. “This young lady is a British national and the subject of an official inquiry.”

The Forceful One stood in the almost-careless manner of one who welcomed violence. “Tell this tin soldier to get out while he can.”

Before Toby could react, Sing stepped in front of him. “Ah-Gor is right. You do not belong here. You belong in the
gwai-lo
bars where the beer is cheap and so are the girls. Do as he says. Get out while you can. You can cause only trouble for me here.” Sing slapped Toby hard across the face.

He stood motionless as she thrust her face close to his, trying to warn him through the look in her eyes of the danger he was in. Silence among the tables and from the dance floor was broken by a murmur here, a titter there, until it swelled into laughter, whistles, and shouts of approval:
The
gwai-lo
should go, he was not welcome here. Someone began to clap his hands, which quickly became a rising tide of applause.

After breathless seconds, Toby turned and descended the stairs without a word.

When he had gone, Ah-Keung straightened, running his hands through his brittle hair, smoothing his lapels with a grin of approval as the applause became scattered and dropped away. “I am most impressed, Little Star. Perhaps there is more Chinese blood in your
jarp-jung
veins than I suspected.” His mood changed as he turned to Three-thumbs Poon, who was sweating freely, a grin of fright fixed on his face.

“You should know better than to serve
gwai-los
, old moneybags. Do you want the police here?” he said icily. “I expect you to pay for this embarrassment.” He glanced at the gold watch. “See that Number Twelve awaits me in her room at this time tomorrow.”

He straightened his jacket to look about him. The music had begun again and dancing had resumed as the buzz of excitement ebbed away. “Tell her who I am and what this means here in Wan-Chai. Let her not misunderstand me again, or I shall hold you responsible.”

After Ah-Keung had left, Three-thumbs Poon warned Number Twelve that there was nothing he could do to help her, that her only protection would be in the deference and quality of her service to the Forceful One when he returned—or if she were just to disappear without delay… . He was almost in tears. “I will pay you well to leave my place of business. I have done nothing to deserve this terrible thing; have I not treated you well?”

“I have been insulted enough this evening,” Sing replied. “Let us rest upon it.” She felt almost sick at the thought that she might have lost Toby forever.

Early the following morning, after a sleepless night in which she and Ruby reviewed possible courses of action, each more dangerous than the last, Sing was summoned to the darkened office of Three-thumbs Poon. To her joy and relief, Toby was sitting opposite the desk, with Poon in the shadows, his unsteady hands holding a letter beneath the glare of the lamp.

Toby stood the moment she entered, giving her his hand with a smile
that told her all was understood. “Good morning, Miss Devereaux. I have been discussing my business here with our friend, Mr. Poon. We have found your name in the files at the Missing Persons Bureau. I have asked Mr. Poon to release you from his employment into my custody while we make further inquiries. He has kindly agreed.”

He looked down at the uneasy face of Three-thumbs Poon. “Unless, of course, Mr. Poon would prefer to lodge a complaint against the removal of one of his employees? This would mean accompanying us to the department’s offices and revealing his methods of employment, details of his operation, a roster of his entire staff, and of course his taxation files over the past seven years … an ordeal I am quite sure he considers unnecessary.”

Sing restrained her delight, almost sorry for the man with lucky thumbs. “Mr. Poon has been a generous and just employer. If he will kindly pay me the amount owed for my services, Ruby and I will leave him in peace.”

An hour later, they had taken a taxi to the Star Ferry and were halfway across Victoria Harbor to Kowloon. Ruby watched the bags in the crowded saloon while Sing took Toby by the hand, leading him out onto the open deck and forward into the bow.

“Please forgive me for last night’s unpleasantness. I do not know how to thank you for helping us in this way.” She looked up at him, his blond hair tugged by the crosswinds. “You have not asked me who he is or why he threatens me.”

“You will tell me when you are ready.” He looked away across the choppy, olive-green waters churned by the harbor traffic and the midstream blow. “Meanwhile, it is my great pleasure to be of service. I am taking you to a place where you will be safe for a few days while we follow our inquiries.”

The ferry pitched in the churning wake of a faster vessel, throwing her against him, and for a moment Sing was held tightly in his arms. It passed much too quickly.

“His kind is not unknown to me,” he said, “nor is Jack Teagarden Ching. They are extortionists and enforcers, feared by their own people but not by mine. They do not welcome trouble with the British government. J. T. Ching is too clever to risk intervention over an issue as personal as this appears to be. He is a cunning operator; we suspect he has connections with organized crime in Japan. Believe me, J. T. Ching has been under close surveillance for a long time.”

The wind freshened in sudden blasts. He placed his jacket over her shoulders. “Wouldn’t you rather join Ruby inside where it is warmer?”

Sing shook her head. “I have learned how to find space on a boat that carries too many people. You just go as far into the bow as you can, and all the noise and scramble are left behind. From here you can feel the wind on your face, and if you are lucky, you might see dolphins. Everything unfolds before you; nothing lies hidden. It is always the best place to be.”

They stood side by side, holding on to the pitching rail, the wind ripping at their hair. “I think I love rivers and boats, ships and the sea more than anything, perhaps because my father is a sea captain and my mother was a comprador. I spent my first days of life on a wondrous voyage up the Yangtze River. I owe my life to that voyage, and to the courage of the Tanka woman who was my father’s friend and my mother’s devoted servant. She told me many stories of my father and the beautiful ships he built … how he took my mother away on the grandest of these, with a name so wonderful that it holds a special place in my heart:
Golden Sky
.”