The gnarled old seaman in the nice clothes shrugged nervously. “What’s that to me? I know nothing of White Powders. Fornicate all White Powders. I know nothing of them.”
Then he was gone.
Shakily Dunross poured a long drink. He felt the new motion of the sampan being sculled again. His fingers brought out the waxen imprints. A thousand to one the coin’s genuine. Christ almighty, what will that devil ask? Drugs, I’ll bet it’s something to do with drugs! That about the curse and the Evil Eye was made up—not part of Dirk’s bargain at all. Even so, I won’t agree to drugs.
But he was ill-at-ease. He could see Dirk Struan’s writing in the Bible that he had signed and endorsed, agreeing before God “to grant to whomsoever shall present one of the half-coins, whatsoever he shall ask, if it is in the tai-pan’s power to give….”
His ears sensed the alien presence before the sound arrived. Another boat scraped his gently. The pad of feet. He readied, not knowing the danger.
The girl was young, beautiful and joyous. “My name is Snow Jade, taipan, I’m eighteen years and Honorable Wu Sang’s personal gift for the night!” Lilting Cantonese, neat chong-sam, high collar, long stockinged legs and high heels. She smiled, showing her lovely white teeth. “He thought you might be in need of sustenance.”
“Is that so?” he muttered, trying to collect himself.
She laughed and sat down. “Oh yes, that’s what he said and I’d like your sustenance also—I’m starving, aren’t you? Honorable Goldtooth has ordered a morsel or two to whet your appetite: quick fried prawns with peapods, shredded beef in black bean sauce, some deep-fried dumplings Shanghai style, quick fried vegetables spiced with Szechuan cabbage and tangy Ch’iang Pao chicken.” She beamed. “I’m dessert!”
Friday
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
12:35 A.M.:
Irritably, Banker Kwang stabbed the doorbell again and again. The door swung open and Venus Poon screeched in Cantonese, “How dare you come here at this time of night without an invitation!” Her chin jutted and she stood with one hand on the door, the other imperiously on her hip, her low-cut evening dress devastating.
“Quiet, you mealy-mouthed whore!” Banker Kwang shouted back at her and shoved past into her apartment. “Who’s paying the rent? Who bought all this furniture? Who paid for that dress? Why aren’t you ready for bed? Wh—”
“Quiet!” Her voice was piercing and easily drowned out his. “You were paying the rent, but today’s the day when the rent was due and where is it, heyaheyaheyaheya?”
“Here!” Banker Kwang ripped the check out of his pocket and waved it under her nose. “Do I forget my fornicating promises—no! Do you forget your fornicating promises—yes!”
Venus Poon blinked. Her rage disappeared, her face changed, her voice became laden with honey. “Oh did Father remember? Oh I was told you’d forsaken your poor lonely Daughter and gone back to the whores of 1 Blore Street.”
“Lies!” Banker Kwang gasped, almost apoplectic even though it was the truth. “Why aren’t you dressed for bed? Why are you wear—”
“But I was called by three different people who said you’d been there this afternoon at 4:15. Oh how terrible people are,” she said crooningly, knowing that he was there though he only went to introduce Banker Ching from whom he was trying to borrow funds. “Oh poor Father, how dreadful people are.” As she talked placatingly, she moved closer. Suddenly her hand snaked out and she snatched the check before he could withdraw it though her voice continued to be sweet. “Oh thank you, Father, from the bottom of my heart… oh ko!” Her eyes crossed, her voice hardened and the screech returned. “The check is not signed, you dirty old dogmeat! It’s another of your banker tricks! Oh oh oh I think I shall kill myself on your doorstep … no, better I shall do it in front of the TV camera, telling all Hong Kong how you … Oh oh oh….”
Her amah was in the living room now, joining in, wailing and caterwauling, both women swamping him in a swelter of invective, challenges and accusations.
Impotently he cursed them both back but that only made them increase their volume. He stood his ground for a moment, then, vanquished, pulled out a fountain pen with a flourish, grabbed the check and signed it. The noise ceased. Venus Poon took it and examined it carefully. Very very carefully. It vanished into her purse.
“Oh thank you, Honorable Father,” she said meekly and abruptly whirled on her amah. “How dare you interfere in a discussion between the love of my life and your mistress, you lump of festering dogmeat. It’s all your fault for spreading other people’s cruel lies about Father’s infidelity! Out! Fetch tea and food! Out! Father needs a brandy … fetch a brandy, hurry!”
The old woman pretended to buckle under the assumed rage and scuttled out in pretended tears. Venus Poon cooed and bustled and her hands were soft on Richard Kwang’s neck.
At length, under their magic, he allowed himself to be mollified and helped to drink, groaning aloud all the time at his ill joss and how his subordinates, friends, allies and debtors had maliciously forsaken him, after he alone in the whole Ho-Pak empire had worked his fingers to their tendons, his feet to the flesh, worrying over all of them.
“Oh you poor man,” Venus Poon said soothingly, her mind darting while her fingers were tender and deft. She had barely half an hour to reach her rendezvous with Four Finger Wu, and while she knew it would be wise to keep him waiting, she did not want to keep him waiting too long in case his ardor lagged. Their last encounter had excited him so much he had promised her a diamond if the performance was repeated.
“I guarantee it, Lord,” she had gasped weakly, her skin clammy with sweat from two hours of concentrated labor, feeling herself afloat with the immensity of his at long last explosion.
Her eyes crossed as she remembered Four Finger Wu’s prodigious efforts, his size, conformity and undoubted technique. Ayeeyah, she thought, still massaging the neck of her former lover, I will need every tael of energy and every measure of juice the yin can muster to dominate that old reprobate’s yowling yang. “How is your neck, my dearest love?” she crooned.
“Better, better,” Richard Kwang said reluctantly. His head had cleared and he was well aware that her fingers were as skilled as her mouth and her peerless parts.
He pulled her down onto his knee and confidently slipped his hand into the low-cut black silk evening dress that he had bought for her last week and fondled her breasts. When she did not resist, he slipped one strap off and complimented her on the size, texture, taste and shape of the whole. Her warmth shafted him and he stirred. At once his other hand went for the yin but before he knew it she had neatly squirmed out of his grasp. “Oh no, Father! Honorable Red’s visiting me and as much as I wa—”
“Eh?” Banker Kwang said suspiciously. “Honorable Red? Honorable Red’s not due till the day after tomorrow!”
“Oh no, he arrived with storm th—”
“Eh? He’s due the day after tomorrow. I know. I looked at my calendar and made sure before I came here! Am I a fool? Do I fish for a tiger in a stream? We have a long-standing date tonight, all night. Why else am I supposed to be in Taiwan? You’re never early and ne—”
“Oh no it was this morning—the shock of the fire and the greater shock that you had forsaken me, br—”
“Come here, you little baggage—”
“Oh no, Father, Honorable R—”
Before she could avoid him, his hands darted out and he sat her back on his knees and began to lift her dress but Venus Poon was an old stager in this kind of warfare and champion of a hundred jousts, even though she was only nineteen. She fought him not, just pressed closer, twisted and got one hand on him, caressingly, and whispered throatily, “Oh but Father, it’s very bad joss to interfere with Honorable Red and as much as I desire your immensity within, we both know there are other ways for the yin to titillate the vital vortex.”
“But first I wan—”
“First? First?” Pleased with herself, she felt him st
rengthening. “Ah, how strong you are! It’s easy to see why all the weevil-mouthed baggages want my old Father, ayeeyah, such a strong, violent, marvelous man.”
Deftly she revealed the yang. Deftly she dominated it and left him gasping. “Bed, dearest love,” he croaked. “First a brandy then a little sleep an—”
“Quite right, but not here oh no!” she said firmly, helping him up.
“Eh? But I’m supposed to be in Tai—”
“Yes, so you’d better go to your club!”
“But I—”
“Oh but you’ve exhausted your poor Daughter.” She feigned weakness as she tidied him and had him up and at the door before he really knew what was happening. There, she kissed him passionately, swore eternal love, promised that she would see him tomorrow and closed the door behind him.
Shakily he stared at the door, his knees gone, his skin clammy, wanting to hammer on it to demand rest in the bed he had paid for. But he didn’t. He had no strength and tottered to the elevator.
Going down, he suddenly beamed, delighted with himself. The check he had given her was for one month’s rent only. She had forgotten he had agreed the month before to increase the amount by $500 a month. Eeeee, Little Marvelous Mouth, he chortled, the yang outsmarted the yin after all! Oh what a good drubbing I gave you tonight, and oh that Clouds and the Rain! Tonight it was truly the Small Death and the Great Birth and certainly cheap at twice one month’s rent even with the increase!
Venus Poon finished brushing her teeth and began to repair her makeup. She spotted her amah in the bathroom mirror. “Ah Poo,” she called shrilly, “fetch my raincoat, the old black one, and phone for a taxi … and hurry or I’ll pinch both your cheeks!”
The old woman scurried to obey, delighted that her mistress was out of her foul mood. “I’ve already phoned for a taxi,” she wheezed. “He’ll be downstairs, waiting at the side entrance as soon as Mother gets there but you’d better give Father a few minutes in case he suspects something!”
“Huh, that old Turtle Top’s good for nothing now! All he has strength for is to fall into the back of his car and be driven to his club!”
Venus Poon put the finishing touches to her lips and smiled at herself in the mirror, admiring herself greatly.
Now for the diamond, she thought excitedly.
“When see again, Paw’ll?” Lily Su asked.
“Soon. Next week.” Havergill finished dressing and reluctantly picked up his raincoat. The room they were in was small but clean and pleasant, and had a bathroom with hot and cold running water that the hotel management had had installed privately, at great cost, with the clandestine help of some experts in the water board. “I’ll call you, as usual.”
“Why sad, Paw’ll?”
He turned and looked at her. He had not told her that soon he would be leaving Hong Kong. From the bed, she watched him back, her skin shiny and youth-filled. She had been his friend for almost four months now, not his exclusive friend since he did not pay her rent or other expenses. She was a hostess in the Happy Hostess Dance Hall that was his favorite nighttime meeting place, Kowloon side. The owner there, One Eye Pok, was an old and valued client of the bank over many years, and the mama-san a clever woman who appreciated his custom. He had had many Happy Hostess friends over the years, most for a few hours, some for a month, very few for longer, and only one bad experience in fifteen years—a girl had tried blackmail. At once he had seen the mama-san. The girl had left that very night. Neither she nor her triad pimp was ever seen again.
“Why sad, heya?”
Because I’m leaving Hong Kong soon, he wanted to tell her. Because I want an exclusivity I can’t have, mustn’t have, dare not have—and have never wanted with any before. Dear God in Heaven how I want you.
“Not sad, Lily. Just tired,” he said instead, the bank troubles adding to the weight upon him.
“Everything be all good,” she said reassuringly. “Call soon, heya?”
“Yes. Yes I will.” His arrangement with her was simple: a phone call. If he could not reach her directly he would call the mama-san and that night he would come to the dance hall, alone or with friends, and he and Lily would dance a few dances for face and drink some drinks and then she would leave. After half an hour he would pay his bill and come here—everything paid for in advance. They did not walk together to this private and exclusive meeting place because she did not wish to be seen on the streets or by neighbors with a foreign devil. It would be disastrous for a girl’s reputation to be seen alone with a barbarian. In public. Outside of her place of work. Any girl of beddable age would at once be presumed to be the lowest type of harlot, a foreign devil’s harlot and despised as such, sneered at openly, and her value diminished.
Havergill knew this. It did not bother him. In Hong Kong it was a fact of life. “Doh jeh,” he said, thank you—loving her, wanting to stay, or to take her with him. “Doh jeh,” he just said and left.
Once alone she allowed the yawn that had almost possessed her many times this evening to overwhelm her and she lay back on the bed and stretched luxuriously. The bed was rumpled but a thousand times better than the cot in the room she rented in Tai-pan Shan.
A soft knock. “Honored Lady?”
“Ah Chun?”
“Yes.” The door opened and the old woman padded in. She brought clean towels. “How long will you be here?”
Lily Su hesitated. By custom the client in this place of assignation paid for the room for the whole night. Also by custom, if the room was vacated early, the management returned part of the fee to the girl. “All night,” she said wanting to enjoy the luxury, not knowing when she would have the opportunity again. Perhaps this client will have lost his bank and everything by next week.
“Joss,” she said, then, “Please put on the bath.”
Grumbling the old woman did as she was told then went away. Again Lily Su yawned, happily listening to the water gurgling. She was tired too. The day had been exhausting. And tonight her client had talked more than usual as she had rested against him, trying to sleep, not listening, understanding only a word here and there but quite content for him to talk. She knew from long experience that this was a form of release, particularly for an old barbarian. Very odd, she thought, all that work and noise and tears and money to achieve nothing but more pain, more talk and more tears. “Never mind if the yang is weak or if they talk or mumble or mutter their foul-sounding language or weep in your arms. Barbarians do that,” her mama-san had explained. “Close your ears. And close your nostrils to the foreign devil smell and the old man smell and help this one enjoy a moment of pleasure. He’s Hong Kong yan, an old friend, also he pays well, promptly, he’s getting you quickly out of debt, and it’s good face to have such a pillow patron. So be enthusiastic, pretend that he’s virile and give value for his money.”
Lily Su knew she gave value for money received. Yes, my joss is very good and oh so much better than my poor sister and her patron. Poor Fragrant Flower and Noble House Chen Number One Son. What tragedy! What cruelty!
She shivered. Oh those terrible Werewolves! Terrible to cut off his ear, terrible to murder him and threaten all Hong Kong, terrible for my poor elder sister to be crushed to death by those smelly rotten dogmeat fishermen at Aberdeen. Oh what joss!
It was only this morning that she had seen a newspaper that had printed a copy of John Chen’s love letter, recognizing it at once. For weeks they had laughed over it, she and Fragrant Flower, that and the other two letters that Fragrant Flower had left with her for safekeeping. “Such a funny man, with almost no yang at all and almost never even a little upstanding,” her elder sister had told her. “He pays me just to lie there for him to kiss, sometimes to dance without clothes, and always promise to tell others how strong he is! Eeeee, he gives me money like water! For eleven weeks I have been his ‘own true love’! If this continues for another eleven weeks … perhaps an apartment bought and paid for!”
This afternoon, fearfully, she had gone
with her father to East Aberdeen Police Station to identify the body. They said nothing about knowing who the patron was. Wisely her father had said to keep that secret. “Noble House Chen will surely prefer that secret. His face is involved too—and the face of the new heir, what’s his name, the young one with the foreign devil name. In a day or two I’ll phone Noble House Chen and sound him out. We must wait a little. After today’s news of what the Werewolves’ve done to Number One Son, no father’d want to negotiate.”
Yes, Father’s smart, she thought. It isn’t for nothing that his fellow workers call him Nine Carat Chu. Thank all gods I have those other two letters.
After they had identified her sister’s body, they had filled out forms with their real names and real family name Chu to claim her money, 4,360 HK in the name of Wisteria Su, 3,000 HK under Fragrant Flower Tak, all money earned outside the Good Luck Dance Hall. But the police sergeant had been inflexible. “Sorry, but now that we know her real name we have to announce it so that all her debtors can claim against her estate.” Even a very generous offer of 25 percent of the money for immediate possession could not get through his rough manner. So they had left.
The rotten dogmeat foreign devil slave, she thought disgustedly. Nothing will be left after the dance hall collects their debts. Nothing. Ayeeyah!
But never mind, she told herself as she lay down in the bath with glorious contentment. Never mind, the secret of the letters will be worth a fortune to Noble House Chen.
And Noble House Chen has more red notes than a cat has hairs.
Casey was curled up in the window of her bedroom, the lights out except for a small reading lamp over the bed. She was staring gloomily down at the street five stories below. Even this late, almost 1:30 A.M., the street was still snarled with traffic. The sky was low and misty, no moon, making the lights from the huge neon signs and columns of Chinese characters more dazzling, reds and blues and greens that reflected in the puddles and turned ugliness into fairyland. The window was open, the air cool and she could see couples darting between buses and trucks and taxis. Many of the couples were heading for the foyer of the new Royal Netherlands Hotel and a late-night snack at the European coffee shop where she had had a nightcap coffee with Captain Jannelli, their pilot.
Noble House Page 104
