Gai-Jin (76 page)

“Why? And why Kanagawa? Why not here?”

“They just said that is where they have to meet, though they did say they would come by night to the Kanagawa Legation. The meeting could take place there.”

“It could be a trap, Tai-pan,” Jamie said. “Don’t forget Legation Lun was murdered there, and those assassins …”

Malcolm’s excitement shriveled, being reminded. But he put that away. “There are soldiers there to protect us.”

Vargas said, “They guaranteed their officials would be unarmed, stressing only the need for secrecy, senhor.”

“It’s too risky for you, Tai-pan,” Jamie said. “I’ll go with Vargas, who can interpret.”

“Sorry, Senhor McFay,” Vargas said, “but they want to talk to the tai-pan personally. It seems there’s no need for an interpreter—they would supply one who could speak English.”

“It’s too dangerous, Tai-pan.”

“Yes, but too good an opportunity to miss, Jamie, nothing like this has ever been offered to any one of us. If we can make such a deal, in secret all the better, we’ll have made a giant step forward. What are the terms, Vargas?”

“They did not say, Tai-pan.”

“Never mind. Accept their invitation and we’ll meet as soon as possible. One condition: I also bring Mr. McFay. Jamie, we’ll go by boat, arrange a palanquin for me at Kanagawa.”

The meeting had been quick and untoward direct. Two samurai. One, calling himself Watanabe, spoke a mixture of English and American slang, his accent American: “Lord Ota wants two prospectors. Experts. They kin go anywheres in his lands—wiv guides. No arms. He guarantees safe conduct, gives ’em good dry lodgings, food, wiv all the saké they kin drink and women to spare. One-year contract. You’s to keep half the gold they finds, you’s to supply free all mining gear and overseers for to train his men if they makes a strike. You’s to handle sales. If successful, he renews second year and third, and more—if Noble House plays fair. Agreed?”

“They’re to prospect only for gold?”

“Of course gold. Lord Ota says he has one small mine, maybe more nearby, eh? You’s to handle sales. Men must be good, must’ve been to Californi or Australi fields. Agreed?”

“Agreed. It will take time to find the men.”

“How long?”

“Two weeks if there are any in the Settlement—six months if we have to bring them from Australia or America.”

“Sooner the better. Next: how many rifles you’s for sale in here right now?”

“Five.”

“Lord Ota buys ’em, and all the Choshu rifles you’s agreed, when they arrives. Same price.”

“Those are already promised. We can supply others.”

“Lord Ota wants them Choshu rifles—he wants ’em. He pays same price. All Choshu guns, unnerstand? And all others you kin get. You sell to him only in Nippon, him only, unnerstand? Same wiv cannon and ships—all you kin get. He pays in gold. More you finds, more is yourn.”

Neither Malcolm Struan nor McFay could shift the man’s position in any way. At length Struan had agreed and they had fixed another meeting in a month when Struan’s would present a simple contract specifying their guarantees and also dossiers on the two men. After the samurai had left they had congratulated each other and, “Jamie, you’ll find them in Drunk Town. For God’s sake hurry, and be careful, before Norbert finds out.”

“Leave everything to me.”

In days McFay had found two qualified men, an American and a Cornish tin miner, both of whom had worked the gold fields near Sutter’s Mill in California and the Anderson’s Creek discoveries in Australia. Tomorrow the miners were to finalize their equipment needs and arrange the details of their contracts and now Struan and McFay listened appalled to Norbert saying, “I’ve done that deal, young Malcolm, it’s done, you can forget it—and those mining scallywags too, they’re contracted to Brock and Sons for five years.”

“You’ve what?” Struan gasped.

Norbert laughed. “Early bird gets the wriggles, old son. I bettered your deal and I’ve already shipped them off to Yedo to samurai Watanabe. Where’d that bastard learn American English? Did he tell you? Never mind. Fifty-fifty on any gold we find is a good deal.” His laugh became even more scornful. “As to William, I’ll see him soon as he’s back, no skin off my nose. Dmitri, you’re welcome, I’ll make the arrangements.” He looked at Struan, his upper lip curling. “As you won’t be here I’ll take Jamie along.”

“What?”

Norbert belched again. “Didn’t I hear your mother ordered you back to Hong Kong on the next boat?”

Jamie flushed. “Now look here, Nor—”

“Keep out of this, Jamie,” Struan snarled. “Norbert, I’d advise you to choose your words more carefully.”

“Is that so, my fine young feller? Didn’t I hear correct that she wants you back, ordered you back right smartly, that your Captain was under orders to do just that?”

“That’s none of your damned business! I advise you—”

“Everything that goes on in Yokohama’s my bloody business!” Norbert
slammed back at him. “And we don’t take advice from anyone in Struan’s, least of all a young puppy not yet dry behind the ears!”

McFay jumped to his feet and Struan jerked up his glass of brandy and threw the contents in Norbert’s face.

“Christ Almighty—”

“Retract that, Norbert,” Struan shouted, Dmitri and Jamie McFay stupefied by the suddenness of the escalation. “Take it back or I demand satisfaction, by God!”

“Pistols at dawn?” Norbert jeered, the action even better than he had hoped. Abruptly he yanked half the tablecloth away to dab his face, sending the glasses clattering. “Pardon for the mess, but you two are witness I said nothing but the truth, by Christ!”

“Do you apologize—yes or no?”

Norbert put both hands on the table, glaring down at Malcolm Struan who glared back, white with rage. “You
were
ordered back, you
are
twenty so still a minor before the law and that’s hardly dry behind the ears. It’s the truth and here’s another: I could blow your head off or cut it off with one hand tied, you can’t even stand straight so how you going to fight, eh?” he said, his voice jeering and heavy with scorn. “You’re a cripple, young Malcolm, and that’s the God’s truth! Another truth, your ma runs Struan’s, has for years, and she’s running it into the ground—ask Jamie or anyone honest enough to tell you! You may call yourself tai-pan but you’re not, and you’re not Dirk Struan, you’re not
the
tai-pan and never will be! Tyler Brock’s
the
tai-pan and, by God, we’ll be Noble House before Christmas too. Duel? You’re mad, but if that’s what you want, any time.” He stalked out. The door slammed.

“I’d—I’d like you both to be my seconds,” Malcolm said, trembling with rage.

Dmitri got up shakily. “Malc, you’re crazy. Duelling’s against the law, but okay. Thanks for lunch.” He left.

Struan tried to catch his breath, his heart hurting. He looked up at McFay who was staring at him as though he were a stranger. “Yes, it’s mad, Jamie, but then Norbert’s the best of Brock and Sons, he’s swamped you and—”

“I’m sorry th—”

“So am I. But more truth is I told no one about the miners, Vargas knew nothing about them, so it leaked through you. You’re the best we’ve got in the company but Norbert will bury us here. A bullet in the bastard’s head is the best way to deal with him—or any of the God-cursed Brocks.”

After a pause McFay said, “Sorry I failed you—yes, I am, very much, but … but sorry, I want no part of any duel, or your vendetta. It’s insane.”

Struan’s pallor increased. “Let’s talk about you. Either you keep your holy oath to support me, by God, or you’re really finished. You’ve three days.”

* * *

Earlier this morning Settry Pallidar and a troop of mounted dragoons led the procession across the bridge that spanned the first moat of Yedo Castle.

They clattered between ranks of impassive, uniformed samurai, shoulder to shoulder—thousands of others had lined the route—over the drawbridge, under the portcullis and through the massive iron-sheathed gates. Ahead were their guides, massed samurai carrying ten-foot-high banners bearing the insignia of the
roju
, three entwined cherry blossoms.

Behind the dragoons were half a hundred Highlanders preceded by their twenty-man band and giant bandleader, pipes skirling, then the party of Ministers and their staff, all mounted, Ministers in court dress—cocked hats, ceremonial swords, cloaks or frock coats against the stiff breeze—except the Russian who wore Cossack uniform and cape and rode the best horse in Japan, a brown stallion that had a personal covey of twenty stablemen to cherish and guard him with their lives. Phillip Tyrer and Johann were in attendance on Sir William, André Poncin on Henri Seratard. A company of Redcoats brought up the rear.

Two small horse-drawn cannon with their camions and gun crews remained on the other side of the bridge. This had been the subject of days of wrangling, Sir William insisting that accompanying ceremonial cannon were an accustomed courtesy to royals, the Bakufu that any gai-jin arms were against the law and an insult to their revered Shōgun. The compromise, after a week of impatient dickering—by Sir William—was that the cannon would stay outside the bridge, that royal salutes would not be fired until the unanimous
roju
gave the promised formal permission. “No ammunition to be landed, so sorry …”

This major hitch was resolved with the help of the French Admiral. During one of the interminable sessions he brought the flagship closer to shore and fired broadside after none too accurate broadside of shells and cannon balls that passed just beyond the Settlement to land harmlessly in the paddy beyond, but petrifying every Japanese within hearing.

“If we can’t land ammunition,” Sir William explained sweetly, “then we will just have to make salutes from the sea like this—we did ask him to use blanks but somehow I suppose he misunderstood, language you know—and so sorry if his range falls short and hits your city, it will be your fault. I will have to explain this in detail to your Emperor Komei as the cannonade, and carrying our rifles for full royal honors, is only a token of respect to honor your Shōgun and, when we see him,
your Emperor Komei
, which visit to Kyōto I have postponed three times to accommodate you, I will certainly reschedule the very moment my more powerful fleet returns from decimating most of the China coast inhabited by foul pirates who had the effrontery to pirate a small British vessel!”

Bakufu opposition crumbled. So all rifles were armed and all soldiers warned that though there might be a fight, under no circumstances and on pain of extreme punishment were any Japanese to be provoked. “What about H.M.S.
Pearl
, Sir William?” the General had asked at the last briefing.

“She can deliver me and my party to Yedo, then return here, in case our hosts mount a surprise attack against the Settlement while we’re away—she can cover an evacuation.”

“Good God, sir, if you think there’s a chance of that, why put yourself at risk?” the General had said worriedly. “The other Ministers, well, they’d be no loss but you, sir, if anything happens to you it would be an international incident. After all, sir, you represent the Empire! You should not risk your person.”

“Part of the job, my dear General.”

Sir William smiled to himself, remembering how he kept his voice flat, meaning it as a pleasantry, but the General had nodded wisely, believing it to be the truth. Poor bugger’s a berk but then that goes with his job, no doubt about that, he thought cheerfully then dismissed everything to concentrate on the castle and the coming meeting that was the culmination of months of negotiating, that would, in effect, give legality to the Treaty and the opening of the Treaty ports. It was those few French shells that worked the miracle, he thought grimly. Damn Ketterer, but thank God his operation in China went well, according to dispatches, and that he’ll be back soon. If he can bombard the coast of China why not here—damn him!

And damn this castle.

From afar it had not looked very imposing but the closer they got to it the more immense it became, with eight rings of barrack-like structures as its outer defenses. Then the castle itself, elegant and beautifully proportioned, he thought, its moat almost two hundred yards across, the towering outer walls thirty or forty feet thick and made of huge granite blocks. Even our sixty-pounders wouldn’t dent those, he told himself, awed. And inside, God only knows how many fortifications surrounding the central keep. And the only way in through one of the gates, or over the walls, a frontal attack, and I wouldn’t like to have to order that. Starve it out? God only knows how many storage places it would have—or how many troops could be billeted here. Thousands.

Beyond the gate the roadway angled into a narrow staging area dominated by bowmen massed in defensive slots or on the parapets thirty feet above. The gate was open and led to another confined courtyard that let out through another fortified gate into another, clearly to be repeated in a maze of passageways that eventually would lead to the central keep but would always leave a hostile force at the mercy of the defenders above.

“We dismount here, Sir William,” Pallidar said, riding up and saluting.
He was Captain of the escort. With him were samurai officers on foot and they were pointing at a vast door that was being heaved open.

“Good. You’re clear on what you have to do?”

“Oh, yes. But I haven’t a hope in hell of covering you or fighting our way out of here, even against bows and arrows.”

“I don’t plan to have to fight anyone, Captain.” Sir William smiled. He turned in his saddle and gave the signal to dismount. “This’s quite a castle, eh?”

“Better than anything I’ve ever read or heard about,” Pallidar said uneasily. “Beats anything the crusaders had. It makes the great castle of the Knights of St. John in Malta seem tiny. Lovely to defend, I’d hate to have to attack it.”

“My thought too. Phillip!” Sir William called out. “Ask someone where you pee around here.”

Tyrer hurried over to one of the samurai officers, bowed politely, and whispered to him. The man grunted and waved at a casual screen. “There are buckets over there, sir, and I think he said there’s a bucket in the corner of most rooms in case one is caught short.”