Gai-Jin (92 page)

“Ah, that’s why she took to her bed and would not see my son,” Ah Tok said. They were in her room at the end of the corridor, safe from prying ears. “He was like a teething child all day, worse this morning, it’s time we went home.”

“Yes. But listen further: she says it’s her monthly but I know her dates like my own. It seems not possible. Normally she is like any young civilized virgin, regular, though …” Ah Soh toyed nervously with her smock, “though now that I remember it her last one was sparse, almost as if she missed it.”

The older woman belched and used a toothpick. “To miss, or to be little, or irregular with all the anxiety over my son’s wounds and the vile, murdering barbarians surrounding us here is ordinary news, not unusual.” On the table between them were various bowls with the remains of her lunch: sweet and sour soup, stir-fried mixed fresh vegetables, a ginger-basted fish with soy, pork slivers in black bean sauce, garlic prawns, and rice. “It’s ordinary, Younger Sister.”

“What is un-ordinary is that yesterday morning when I went to bring her tea, and hot water to bathe, I had to bang several times to awaken her and she would not let me into her room, just shrieked rudely, ‘Go away!’ through the door in that vulgar voice of hers, and then”—Ah Soh dropped her voice dramatically—“just minutes later, Big Pointed Nose, that other sort of foreign devil our foreign devils call Frogs, he knocked softly like this.” She rapped three times, then a fourth. “She let him in at once!”

Ah Tok blinked. “At once? Him? The Frog? She let him in but not you? You saw him?”

“Yes, but he did not see me.”

“Ayeeyah! That was clever. Go on, Younger Sister!” Ah Tok said, now hanging on every word. “Go on.”

“He stayed a few minutes, then came out carrying things wrapped in a brown piece of silk. Like a thief in the darkest night. But he did not see me spying on him.” Ah Soh paused again, loving—like all Chinese—to be the purveyor of gossip and secrets. “… Or even when I followed him.”

“By all gods great and small, you did?” Ah Tok poured two glasses of the
Madeira wine they savored. “Long life, Younger Sister, may your Jade Gate never trouble you. Go on, go on!”

“He went down to the shore and got into a rowing boat and rowed out to sea. After a while I saw him drop whatever it was over the side into the sea.”

“No!”

“Yes. Then he rowed back. But he didn’t see me, never.”

“What could it have been?”

Ah Soh leaned closer. “When Missee let me in I looked around carefully. Her bed and nightdress were soaked with sweat, and she looked as though she had had a Happy Valley fever. Her personal towels were soaked, heavier than usual. She told me to clean everything, to bring hot water and not to let anyone in—even the tai-pan. As soon as I had done what was necessary she flopped back in bed and went to sleep.”

“That’s not strange, but Pointed Nose is!” Ah Tok nodded sagely. “This is like donkey dung, shiny on the outside but still all dung. Clearly he disposed of something for her.”

Ah Soh hesitated. “Your Honored Son, is there a chance he has lain with her?”

Ah Tok cackled. “I am sure he has tried but Golden Pubics will not let his Celestial Stem relish the breaching of her Gate, though she flaunts it every chance she gets. I’ve heard him moaning her name in his sleep, poor man. Disgusting, if she was a civilized person we could arrange the price and that would end it.”

Ah Soh watched Ah Tok thoughtfully pluck a piece of the decimated fish head with her chopsticks, suck the bone clean and spit it into her bowl. The younger woman would gladly have partaken of the leftovers, their cook not as good as Ah Tok’s. “How’s your cook these days?” she asked innocently.

“Improving. The dog comes from my village so he had promise. I’m training him, of course.” Ah Tok grimaced. “Baffling, Younger Sister. How is the Empress today?”

“Irritable as usual. The flow continues, stronger than normal. Medicine Man Giant came to see her this morning but she would not see him, told me to send him away. There’s someth—”

“Has my son seen her yet?”

“She will see him this afternoon.”

“Good, today his tongue’s like an asp to his old mother over her. Pointed Nose and Pubics in a secret plot? Smelly, smelly indeed. Keep your eyes and ears open, Younger Sister.”

“There’s something else.” Ah Soh’s eyes rolled with excitement. She reached into her pocket and put the cork on the table. The lower part was
stained purple to black. “I found this under the bed when I was reaching for the chamber pot.”

The wrinkled face became even more wrinkled with puzzlement. “So?”

“Smell it, Elder Sister.”

Ah Tok obeyed. The odor was pungent, slightly familiar. “What is it?”

“I cannot be sure … but it smells to me like Dark of the Moon. I think the bottle this corked contained Dark of the Moon … with other herbs.”

The older woman gasped. “The expeller? To cause a miscarriage? Impossible! Why should she want to do that?”

“Very bad face for your son to be named a father before marriage, eh? You know how foreign devils carry on about marriage and scandals and virginity, no fornication before the wedding—the man always blamed, how foolish! Bad face for your son. Then there’s Tai-tai Tess to answer to, as well as her foul and vengeful foreign devil god.”

Both women shuddered. Ah Tok sniffed the cork again. “You think Pointed Nose threw the bottle into the sea?”

“I’m missing a teapot too, that could have been for the accompanying herbs, she wanted hot water and honey too.”

“To take away the taste! Ayeeyah!” Gravely Ah Tok said, “My son is … is quite unbalanced about that woman.”

“What should we do?”

“You were right to tell me. We will write at once to Illustrious Chen and send him the cork in the first mail. He will know if you are right, and then what to do.” Shakily Ah Tok poured another glass of wine for each of them. “Keep your eyes wide, be like a clam, I will do the same—not a word to her, my son, or anyone until we hear from him what to do.”

Malcolm Struan was hobbling across the High Street heading for the Struan Building, leaning heavily on his sticks. The sky was overcast, a slight wind off the sea, the afternoon chilly and his crushing worry had dropped away. Seeing Angelique, convinced that she was all right, more lovely than ever, though pale and drowsy, had done it. He had stayed only moments, not wanting to tire her.

A group of mounted traders reined in politely to allow him to pass, raised their riding crops in salute. “’Day to you, Tai-pan,” Lunkchurch said, grim-faced like the others. “Will you be at the Club at sundown?”

“What’s amiss?” Struan said.

Lunkchurch jerked his thumb at the squat, black-hulled, two-masted steamer anchored in the bay near Marlowe’s frigate. She flew the flag of Brock and Sons. “Her and her news. Norbert’s called a meeting: just traders, not Sir William.”

“I was going to do the same. Sundown, good, I’ll be there,” Malcolm
said tightly.
Ocean Witch—
all Brock’s major vessels were surnamed “Witch” as Struan’s used “Cloud”—had unexpectedly arrived late yesterday evening with news, mails and the latest Hong Kong papers. “Bloody stupid!”

Major editorials in all papers were about Admiral Ketterer and the fleet’s highly successful attack on Chinese pirate nests in and around Mirs Bay and that now he was en route to Shanghai for coaling. The
Guardian
, using big, angry type, summed up the problem:

“Ketterer’s a bloody fool,” Struan said. “Norbert’s right in that. Perhaps now Sir William will see the light and ask for a replacement at once. We’ve got to deal with the Jappos here ourselves and Ketterer won’t move without crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s.”

“We certainly needs a bugger with balls,” Lunkchurch said. “Ketterer’s a damp fart.”

One of the other men said, “Hey, Charlie, he smashed the pirates when he’d the order, he’ll do the same here. Wot’s an extra few months, eh? Tai-pan,” he asked anxiously, “can we know how Miss Angel is?”

“She’s fine, she’s fine now.”

“Thank God for that!”

News that she had taken to her bed had flashed around the Settlement yesterday and when it was learned she had refused to see Babcott, Hoag or even the tai-pan concern escalated: “Christ, it’s the Frog cooking, she’s poisoned.” … “No, she’s caught their plague.” … “Frogs don’t have plagues, for God’s sake, just lice.” … “We all got lice … I heard it was cholera…. ”

Universal relief permeated Yokohama at noon today when Minister Seratard had put out an official bulletin that she was in perfect health, merely suffering from a temporary indisposition—quickly whispered it was just her period.

“My fiancée’s fine,” Malcolm said again. Proudly.

“That’s a relief,” Lunkchurch said. “You hear
Witch’s
leaving on tonight’s tide?”

Malcolm glanced out to sea, much of his disquiet returning. Last night when he had first heard of the ship’s arrival he had been filled with a nauseating, sudden panic that Tyler Brock or Morgan Brock were aboard. It was only when Jamie reassured him they were not that he could think clearly.

Why the hell does Tyler Brock terrify me, even now? he asked himself again. I can understand it when I was small but now Tyler’s not much taller than me, though ugly as ever, rough-visaged and foulmouthed, with his big belly and his one eye always bloodshot. What does that matter? There are many men in Hong Kong like him, many uglier. Many such enemies. But they don’t frighten me. He’s always been our enemy and we’ve contained him every time—Dirk did, my father did, Mother did, has, and I must, but … Christ Almighty, I hate that bugger for all the grief he’s caused Mother and the family.

He took a deep breath and concentrated on
Ocean Witch
. “She’s not due out for two days.”

“That’s the rumor.”

“But why? Why so fast a turnaround?”

“Don’t know, but that’s the poop.”

“We’ll soon find out. ’Day!” Malcolm cast off his foreboding and continued across the road. Ahead was the Struan Building where he was heading and beyond that the spire of Holy Trinity. He had been to the early service this morning and had prayed for Angelique and for strength and afterwards had felt better. But God curse all Brocks forever, let me kill Norbert quickly an—

“Tai-pan!”

Startled from his reverie he looked up, around. Phillip Tyrer was hurrying from the British Legation. “Sorry, but we all just wanted to know how Miss Angelique was.”

“Fine, she’s fine,” Malcolm said. Now, behind Tyrer, he saw Sir William peering at him out of one of the ground floor windows. He waved a stick and gave an awkward thumbs-up and saw the Minister wave back. Just before
Sir William retreated into the room he caught a glimpse of another man beside him. “Oh, that your tame samurai, Nakama?”

“Who? Oh yes, yes, it was. Is she really all right?”

“Everything with her was
very
good, thank you.”

“Thank God for that, we were all worried to death!” Phillip Tyrer beamed down at him, a picture of health, ruddy, strong, taller than Struan but only because now he walked, and stood, hunched over. “You’re looking much better yourself.”

“Wish that were true, Phillip.” Abruptly Malcolm’s envy prompted him to say sharply, “I hear Nakama’s been giving you all sorts of information, you and Sir William?”

Tyrer’s smile faded. “Yes, I suppose he has.”

“The arrangement was that you were to keep Jamie and me informed. Everything. Eh?”

“Well, yes, yes, it was. But Sir William … he’s trying to find out the politics of Japan an—”

“Politics of a country and business are like a pair of gloves, Phillip. Perhaps you’d drop by tomorrow, before tiffin? I’d appreciate knowing what’s new.” He forced a smile. “Please give my best to Sir William, see you tomorrow.”

He limped down the street, angry at himself for being so caustic, sick to death of walking like this, then climbed the stairs of the Struan Building heading for his suite. His back and stomach ached alarmingly. No more than usual, he thought irritably, and that’s no cause to snap at Phillip. He was just trying to be pleasant. Never mind, a little of Ah Tok’s elixir and I’ll be fine again. I’ll ask Phillip to dinner an—

“Tai-pan!”

“Oh, hello, Jamie.” Malcolm stopped halfway up the staircase. “Did you hear
Ocean Witch
is leaving early? Perhaps on this evening’s tide?”

“Ah! I was just going to tell you. Heard the rumor, tried to get it confirmed by Norbert but he’s busy at the moment—how’s Angelique?”

“Fine,” Malcolm said absently. “We’d better be ready with our mails in case the
Witch
sails early.”

“I’ll be all set. I’ll collect yours as soon as I hear if it’s true.” Jamie frowned, seeing how distracted Malcolm was.

“Send someone to Angelique, she has mail too.” Her letter to his mother, written and rewritten until both were satisfied. It’s a good letter, he thought.