by Jeannie Lin
The wagon released them outside the ward gates and left them to disperse on foot. The men all separated as instructed, though Fu Lin hovered close to Gao as they entered the ward. Gao wandered back to the bridge where the arrest had been made. Most likely the head constable would return the night soil men somewhere around there.
He searched out a tea stand with some shade and sat down. The tea woke him up a bit, even if it was watered down. It wasn’t long before Fu Lin sauntered over and plopped himself down on the stool.
“All this trouble for only twenty coppers.”
Gao bones dragged as if they were made of lead and his head throbbed. The lack of sleep was catching up to him.
“I’ll give you copper to keep watch,” he proposed.
“Deal.”
Gao handed over the money and proceeded to lean his head back against the post behind him, closing his eyes. It would be an hour before the witnesses were released. With his eyes shut, he could think of Wei-wei. The sound of her voice, her fearlessness, her laughter. The soft weight against his back as they’d ridden home. The taste of her on his tongue. Better than honey. A man could live for that.
He’d only known her for the span of a few weeks. At first, they’d only met briefly before she’d disappeared back to her land of mansions and gardens and polo matches. Those few memories had burned bright in his imagination while they were apart. Now, just from the last few days, he had so many memories of her that she filled his thoughts.
That was what happened when everything else in life was drudgery. Bright memories burned brighter. Wei-wei was a vibrant red flower in the midst of a gray, rainy day.
“Hey, is that them?”
Gao opened his eyes to the sight of the two night soil collectors making their way over the bridge. The magistrate had returned them with their collection buckets, albeit empty. The older one had his shovel. They were deep in conversation, probably wondering why the crazy magistrate had grabbed them in the first place.
Gao nodded to Fu Lin. As soon as the collectors had put some distance between them, he stood to follow. Fu did the same.
It didn’t take long. They had only been tailing the night soil men for minutes before two strangers appeared from the shadows to intercept them. The night soil men were directed into a laundry yard where they disappeared behind the draped sheets. A perfect place to hide a crime and the bodies…
Gao broke into a run, reaching a hand into his tunic to take hold of his knife.
“Brother Gao!” Fu called out behind him, panting as he struggled to keep up. “They took them into that yard over there!”
So much for stealth.
Gao reached the laundry yard and immediately swept the large sheet in front of him to the ground to clear his view. The night soil men were backed into the corner while two men loomed over them.
“What did you tell the magistrate?” one of the men demanded as the senior night soil man held up his shovel in defense.
The interrogators turned around as Gao tore through the hanging clothes with Fu Lin at his side. The taller of them unsheathed a machete from his belt. The blade was longer than a dagger, shorter than a sword. The perfect weapon for these close quarters.
The two separated, the machete facing off against Gao while his companion lunged toward the night soil men.
Machete man swung his blade. Gao responded by throwing a pair of trousers at him. Then he switched his grip on his knife, and used the moment to attack. The man dodged away from the thrust and re-centered himself, which told Gao two things.
This was a trained fighter.
Gao was in trouble.
A strangled snarl came from behind him, ringing more of fear than a battle cry. The night soil men fled while Fu Lin flew at the other man, swinging his bamboo rod wildly against the man’s double knives.
Double knives meant more trouble.
Instinctively, Gao knew what he needed to do and it was run. They were outmatched.
He threw more clothes and maneuvered his way closer to Fu Lin. “Get help.”
Fu took orders well, definitely one of his best traits. He ran off as Gao engaged the double-knife wielder.
Seeing it was now two against one, the pair exchanged a look and adjusted their approach. They circled, trying to pin Gao between them. Gao shifted to prevent exactly that. The machete man grew impatient. He charged, and Gao jumped back as the blade swept at his ribs. Double knives came next. Gao knocked away the first thrust, then evaded a swipe that came too close to his throat.
He’d had enough. Gao backed out of the laundry yard and took to the streets. The two men followed.
Gao’s heart was pumping hard now, chasing away any trace of drowsiness. He raced back toward the market area, and had nearly reached the intersection when a team of constables poured into the lane. Fu was at the lead.
“There!” Fu shouted.
Gao spun around to see his pursuers coming to a halt. He locked eyes with the machete man who took one look at the constables before fleeing. The two suspects split apart as they took off, veering off into the alleys.
Now Gao was the pursuer. He kept his focus on the machete man, turning left to chase him down an alleyway. Machete man was stockier than he was, but Gao had him on speed. He gained prepared to tackle his legs, but the machete man side-stepped. He swiveled around with blade flashing, leaving Gao with no time to do anything but throw up his hands in defense. The slash stung across his palm.
He’d been cut a few times before, which was a good thing. It kept him from being shocked by a minor wound. This cut was nothing. The pain hadn’t fully set in yet, and his knife hand was still good.
Gao dived in to retaliate. The sudden movement was enough to make his opponent jump back, but machete-man was trained. He countered immediately. His elbow connected against Gao’s breastbone. Sharp pain stole his breath, but Gao stayed close. The only way he was going to win against a machete was if he stayed close. Gao lunged again.
The man had him in size and weight, but Gao had height and enough momentum to stagger the larger man momentarily. He struck at the man’s kidneys with a short punch, taking a blinding hit to the eye in return. It wasn’t a full swing—they were too close for that. The machete was no good now, but neither was Gao’s knife. The larger man dropped his weapon as they grappled.
Gao had him. It was a street brawl now.
Constable Ma was the one who ended it. The posse had arrived to surround them. The men dragged them apart and one after another they pressed his opponent into the ground, clamping irons around his wrists. Gao assumed he was next, but the constables set him to his feet instead.
“Good work,” Head Constable Ma said gruffly.
Gao ran his tongue along the front of his teeth, tasting the coppery tang of blood. This was a lot messier of a job than he preferred. “Did you catch the other one?”
“We’re still looking.”
Gao didn’t respond, but he considered the second man gone. These were not common street thugs. They were trained and coordinated. If there were two, then there were four. The nobleman hadn’t been killed by a random attack.
On the way back through the streets, he grabbed a cloth from the ransacked laundry yard to wrap around his hand. The cut wasn’t deep and had just started to burn. It would hurt more later. The blood was still rushing through him, his spirits elevated from the fight.
As the prisoner was loaded onto the wagon, Constable Ma counted out twenty coins and handed them to Gao unceremoniously.
“Where are you taking him?”
“There’s a jail house in this ward. We’ll keep him there while we look for his friend. You still in?”
Gao held up his injured hand and shook his head. Truth was, he was more interested in the man they’d caught. The constables could scour the streets for hours for the other guy only to come up empty-handed.
“Where’s Magistrate Li?” he asked.
“He’ll be summoned to the jail house.”
; “Can I ride with them?” Gao asked, indicating the wagon.
Ma gave a gruff nod. Gao climbed aboard and the head constable waved them off before turning to direct the others to continue the search. Fu Lin gave him a nod, brandishing his rod in a sign of triumph, and went to join the search party for Double Knives. Gao clenched his hand around the pouch of coins. He’d probably split his earnings with the boy. Fu Lin had done well.
As the wagon started off, Gao turned his attention to the prisoner. Not long ago they had been locked in battle. Now the machete man was without weapon and chained. The chains formed a crisscross pattern over his chest locking his arms in place with his hands behind him. His face was a mask, but his eyes flashed fire as he looked at Gao.
One of the constables in the wagon had collected the machete. Gao asked to look at it.
The blade was forged steel and wickedly sharp. Gao had experienced the edge directly—the cut in his hand was clean. He was lucky it wasn’t deep enough to hit bone; the blade was that sharp. Most importantly, the machete had been forged as a fighter’s weapon, not a workmen’s tool that had been re-purposed.
“Paid job?” Gao asked.
The prisoner didn’t answer. He flashed Gao one last dangerous look before turning away.
Chapter 13
Magistrate Li didn’t take long to arrive at the jail house. He appeared shortly after the constables had locked the suspect into a cell in the back. Gao was waiting just outside the door, and Li paused to stare at the sight of him. Gao imagined he was looking much worse than he had that morning. His eye had swollen over the course of the wagon ride there and half his face was probably bruised beyond recognition.
“I heard you captured the suspect,” Li said, still staring at him with barely restrained horror.
“There were two of them.” Gao looked at the magistrate through one swollen eye and one good one. “Did you know there would be more than one? You sent your entire force.”
He’d also attached an extravagant bounty and recruited volunteers to lure thief-catchers from far and wide.
“It’s best to overplan,” Li said in a controlled tone.
Gao had become familiar with the magistrate’s perpetually thoughtful, perpetually worried look. It was clear Li was occupied with important administrative matters. He didn’t want to be speaking to Gao at the moment, but he was too polite to cut him off. Perhaps Li Chen felt some sense of gratitude since Gao had been the one to come up with the plan to draw out the perpetrators. He’d also managed to catch one of the suspects, even if he’d gotten himself beaten to a pulp in the process.
“Are you going to question him now?” Gao asked.
“You’re bleeding.”
Gao looked down at his hand which he’d tied with a makeshift bandage.
“No, your other arm.”
Surprised, Gao pressed his fingers to his forearm. He’d been cut just above the elbow. Blood had soaked through his sleeve, but the stain was hidden by the dark color of his tunic. Gao could feel the pain radiating from the wound now that his attention was focused on it. Before, the cut had been just one of many other aches and pains.
“You should have that seen to.”
“It’s nothing—”
“There’s a physician nearby. Really, this is important. You must take care of your injuries.”
Magistrate Li’s tone insisted, quite clearly, that civilized people did not stand there bleeding openly in polite company.
Leaving no room for protest, Li gave him the address of the physician, and Gao left the jail house reluctantly. He’d wanted to see if he could be present for the questioning, but it wasn’t his place. Magistrate Li was willing to indulge him so far, but Gao wasn’t going to make any progress unless he cooperated.
The address Li had given him was only a few lanes away. The physician examined and cleaned his wounds, and determined Gao wouldn’t need to be sewn back together. As Gao had been wounded aiding the magistrate, the physician refused payment.
“I hear there’s a lot of activity out in the streets today,” the man said. “Hopefully no one else gets hurt.”
An hour had passed by the time he returned to the jail house. A familiar-looking official in an indigo-colored robe was entering the building. Gao recognized the long gray beard as well as the robe from the House of Heavenly Peaches just last night. The chief imperial censor, as Wei-wei had explained. Gao watched as Chief Censor Zheng spoke to the clerk before being led inside.
Constable Ma came up behind Gao. “This case seems to be getting bigger by the minute.”
“Do imperial censors typically come to see prisoners?”
The lawman snorted. “Not in my experience. You know, you’re not so bad,” he continued, almost companionably. “Are you looking for work?”
Gao stared at him.
“Steadier pay than thief-catching,” the constable offered with a shrug.
Was there much difference between being an enforcer for the local crime boss as opposed to the county magistrate? Not that he was considering it. Gao preferred to stay unnamed and unknown.
“Did you find the partner?” he asked.
The constable shook his head in disgust. “He’s gone. Maybe the magistrate will be able to find out something during the interrogation.”
Which usually meant torture. Li Chen seemed pretty mild-mannered for interrogation, but maybe he had a cold-blooded streak to him. On the other hand, Gao had no doubts about the chief imperial censor. Zheng had the calm, steely-eyed look of a seasoned professional. From what Gao knew of censors, they were the Emperor’s men and held authority over other men of power.
Shouting came from back in the jailhouse. “Guards! Guards, come quick!”
Constable Ma hurried forward, and Gao followed him back into the jailhouse. They wound through the corridor to the row of cells where prisoners were kept.
The imperial censor stood outside one of the cells with a look of alarm on his face. “Open this door immediately,” he commanded.
“Only the ward chief has the key,” Ma explained.
“Magistrate Li took the key!” protested another man, presumably the ward chief.
“Where is the magistrate?”
Apparently gone. The constables looked from one man to another, unable to answer. Zheng appeared ready to have all their heads.
“Break the door down,” he ordered through clenched teeth.
Whoever this Zheng was, he was certainly feared. The constables leapt to do his bidding.
“And find the magistrate,” the official added, storming off.
Constable Ma rushed off to find Magistrate Li, and Gao was momentarily left alone. There was a small opening in each cell door, allowing the keepers to peer inside. Gao walked over to inspect the prisoner’s cell.
Machete man was on the ground, face down and unmoving. His hands were still shackled behind him.
On his grave. What was Li Chen thinking, leaving this prisoner alone? And where had Li gone?
The ward chief returned with a pick ax and a hatchet, ready to break down the door. He prepared to swing at the hinges when Gao stopped him.
“Wait. I can do that faster.”
He inspected the lock on the door. It was a brass box lock.
“I need something small and thin. A pin or an awl. Carving tools—engraving tools,” Gao demanded, inspiration striking him.
The ward chief stared at Gao, trying to decide whether to take his lead. In the streets, among laborers and workmen, no one claimed class or rank. Taking charge was a matter of standing a little taller, speaking a little louder than the rest. And standing firm. It was something Gao knew how to do — be just a touch smarter and a little less afraid.
“His death will be on your hands,” Gao warned him.
The ward chief turned and ordered the clerk to fetch some tools. Minutes later, the clerk returned and shoved a bundle into Gao’s hands. Gao selected a long, flat tool that seemed most suited for the job and inserted it into the
keyhole. He tried to get a feel for the mechanism inside, searching for the ward spring. It had been years since he’d done this.
Blowing out a breath, he slowed his movements. It was in there. He couldn’t see inside, but he could sense it by touch if he knew what he was searching for. Finally, he found the spring that prevented the lock from turning and used the tool to push it back. At the same time, he pulled the lock open and then the door.
Gao slipped inside and then paused, hand ready for his knife. The prisoner didn’t move as he approached. Still, Gao remained on alert as he reached out to turn the prisoner over. Machete man’s face was pale and bloodless. Gao already knew the verdict long before he bent his ear near the man’s face to listen for breath. His pulse was also still.
Gao stepped back. The sight of death no longer unnerved him, but it was still unsettling.
The prisoner’s mouth gaped open, as if he had gasped for breath as the last bit of life left him. A stream of spittle ran down his chin.
The ward chief came to stand beside him. “Poison?”
The man must have had it hidden on him.
Chief Censor Zheng had returned as well. He took in the scene from the door of the cell. “Dead?” he asked.
Gao nodded. He cared nothing for the prisoner. They’d fought and the man with the machete had tried to kill him. Still, he pressed the prisoner’s eyes closed as a courtesy.
Zheng came forward to feel the man’s pulse himself. Once he was convinced of the answer, he let out a breath, shaking his head. Then he looked to Gao. “Who are you?”
Before Gao could answer, Magistrate Li appeared at the door. He was out of breath. “How did this happen?”
The senior official glanced up from the corpse to fix his cold stare onto Li Chen. “I was wondering the same myself.”
Gao was trapped at the jail house for the next four hours while the imperial censor insisted on questioning everyone, and Gao insisted he knew nothing. Then Li Chen had ruined things by coming to his defense. The magistrate attested that he’d sent Gao away when the prisoner had been poisoned, which suddenly had the chief censor very interested in how Magistrate Li was associated with the likes of someone like Gao.
