Jake started. Mina Schlitz! He had run into the young assassin on his first mission, and remembered the whip she used to strangle her enemies. So she had used a blunderbuss on his brother . . .
‘I saved him, carried him away on my back – Schlitz and Zeldt are no more friends of mine than you lot are – I took him to my lodgings, gave him my bed, sat with him day after day. When he woke from his coma, he didn’t know who he was. I nursed him back to health, and gradually he started to remember . . .’ A tear rolled down Xi’s cheek. ‘I would have let him return to his precious organization. I liked your brother, you see. He had character. He was strong’ – he pointed to his head – ‘here, where it counts – not the usual idiots they train up at Point Zero.’ He spat out the name as if it were poison. ‘Yes, I would have let him return, even I. But he convinced me – in that sly way of his – that he did not want to go back. They haven’t sent anyone to find me – why should I care about them? he said. I believed him.’
Xi clicked his fingers at one of his men. ‘I’m dry.’ The minion stepped forward and opened one of the caskets on the table. It contained a jumble of cosmetics. Xi searched around and retrieved a little tube. His eye on Jake, he turned the tube until a purple-brown lipstick, the colour of a bruise, emerged. He applied it right round his mouth, chucked it back in the box, took out some rouge and brushed it onto his cheeks; then he opened the second casket, which was full of white talc. He padded a cloud of it onto his face to seal the make-up.
‘I took Pip – that’s what I called him; Philip didn’t suit him . . . I took him to London. I gave him the keys to my mansion, showered him with gifts, educated him in the arts, introduced him to the wonders of literature. We haunted the playhouses. We were dazzled by Richard Burbage as Hamlet. We met Shakespeare, Jonson, Marlowe. I chaperoned him to Rome, to the studio of Caravaggio himself.’ Again Xi’s voice became shrill. There were flickers of lightning every few seconds now as the storm gathered overhead. ‘Yes, we were painted by the greatest artist of the day. I gave him all this, loved him like a father. And how does he repay me?’
Xi struck Jake across the face, making his cheek sting. ‘Of course Nanny told me all along that he was not to be trusted; that the Djoneses were devious.’ He turned to Madame Fang, frowning. ‘But I didn’t listen to you, did I?’ He looked back at Jake with an expression of pure hatred. ‘You see, all the time Pip Djones was double-crossing me, waiting for his moment to strike. But I struck first. I tortured him – with knives, with water, with needles. I didn’t want to kill him – that would have been too easy; I needed him to suffer – so I locked him in a place where he will never see light! No, he will never see light again. He will never see his precious secret service. Or his family. Or another human being. Ever again!’ His voice echoed around the walls. ‘He will die cold, dark and alone.’
All at once, rain started to patter down – huge, steaming drops of it – quickly becoming a downpour. Madame Fang motioned for a servant to hold an umbrella over her and Xi. Within moments, the rain was battering the pool, making Xi laugh with delight, while the eels retreated into the murky depths.
Jake eyeballed him. ‘Tell me where Philip is?’ he repeated, almost shouting to be heard over the deluge.
‘I’m bored of this game,’ Xi said. ‘Bring me the helmet.’ One of the guards was carrying something that looked like a medieval instrument of torture, and he gave a nod. Two soldiers held Jake while the third forced the helmet over his head.
‘Leave him,’ Topaz cried, struggling to help him, but Madame Fang forced her back again. Yoyo pleaded in her native tongue, but received only a thump in reply.
Jake’s head was suddenly in clammy darkness; he could hear nothing but his own breathing. The helmet was lined with rubber, and the collar was fastened tight around his neck.
Xi Xiang stared at Jake through the visor. ‘I apologize for this,’ he purred, ‘but you see, when I take your remains back home, dismembered, to show your brother, he needs to see who it is.’ He patted the metal casing. ‘This should keep your face in one piece – more or less.’
‘You loathsome, spineless—’ Nathan snarled.
Even in the midst of his terror, the phrase jolted Jake: When I take your remains back home? Back home! So Xi had another place? Was that where Philip was?
‘Laissez-le tranquille!’ Topaz pleaded, eyes streaming with tears. ‘Pour l’amour de Dieu . . .’ Madame Fang gave her another slap.
Xi Xiang turned to his henchmen. ‘Lower him, headfirst. Slowly . . . we want to enjoy it.’
Jake was dragged over to the side of the pool, his head forced down into the water. Eels attacked the metal casing with the force of battering rams, making his skull ring. Pulses of electricity fizzed around; only the rubber collar kept him safe from the shocks. But for how long? The men prepared to push Jake’s shoulders into the water too – at which point the eels would surely finish him off. He could see only a churning maelstrom of movement, and red eyes darting towards him. As he braced himself for the worst, snapshots of his family appeared before his eyes – his mum and dad, then Philip, starving in a dark dungeon.
Xi Xiang was shaking with laughter, so much so that tears streamed down his face. And Nathan suddenly spotted his opportunity . . .
He cupped his manacled hands together, grabbed the casket of talc and threw it at Xi, blinding him; then he grabbed the jade bottle from Xi’s belt, opened it, and threw the contents at the two guards holding Jake. He reached for his friend, and at the same time pushed the first man into the pool. With a high kick, Yoyo dealt with the other, and the eels immediately set upon them.
Taking advantage of the confusion, Topaz swung round and struck another guard in the jaw with her manacles. As Madame Fang came for her, drawing her sword, Topaz dodged, snapped a stone spear off one of the statues and turned to do battle. They fought around the edge of the pond, metal sparking against stone in the pounding rain.
Nathan and Yoyo followed Topaz’s lead, snapping weapons off the other statues and taking on the remaining guards.
Jake was struggling with the clasp on his helmet, made slippery by the rain. Suddenly Xi Xiang, teeth clenched, came into view through his visor. He was covered in white paste, and the lipstick around his mouth was smudged. He drew a dagger, but Jake head-butted him with the helmet. A vivid red gash appeared across Xi’s forehead and blood streamed down over his eyes.
He let out a shrill cry and stabbed at Jake, catching his shoulder. But Jake had finally managed to pull off the helmet – with which he proceeded to bash his opponent’s skull, harder and harder. Dazed, Xi tottered backwards. Jake took him by the collar.
‘Where is he?’ he shouted, half demented. ‘Where is Philip?’
Xi hawked up another gob of phlegm and spat it in Jake’s face. Then his mouth fell open and he lost consciousness.
Meanwhile Nathan and Yoyo had overcome the last of the guards: he fell to the ground, breaking his neck with a snap. Nathan snatched the key from the man’s belt and started to unlock his handcuffs, while Yoyo collected up the weapons and rushed to Topaz’s aid, tossing her a sword.
‘Merci bien,’ she cried, swapping her stone weapon to her left hand, while catching the sword in her right. She attacked Fang with renewed vigour, Yoyo engaging her from the other side. Even with two young agents coming at her at once, the old woman was a fighting machine, lightning-quick on her feet, eyes pin-sharp, always anticipating the next move. But in the end they were too much for her: they pinned her to the wall and disarmed her.
Fang hissed at them through the warm rain. ‘There’s no escape,’ she taunted.
‘Why will war be declared in two days’ time?’ Topaz demanded, the tip of her sword piercing the old woman’s wizened neck. ‘What’s happening? Tell me!’
Fang gave a peculiar smile and stamped her heel. A fresh blade that had been attached to her knee sprang out and she jabbed it into Topaz’s thigh, knocking Yoyo out of the way at the same time. She jumped onto th
e tightrope and danced across the pool in three steps, before climbing onto one of the statues and throwing herself into the air. The History Keepers watched, open-mouthed, as she caught hold of the eave and somersaulted onto the roof. Topaz launched her sword towards her, and the others followed suit with the extra weapons they had to hand, but Fang was too swift. She scurried away over the tiles, disappearing in the haze of torrential rain.
A moment later, there was a blare of hunting horns. Through the archway Nathan saw a platoon of guards heading towards them. He ran back to the metal gates and pulled them shut, but there was no way to lock them. The soldiers advanced, weapons drawn.
‘Up here!’ Topaz called to the others. She had pulled Xi Xiang’s throne over to the wall and used it to scramble up onto the roof. She helped Yoyo up after her.
‘Let’s go!’ Nathan shouted at Jake.
‘Wait!’ He ran back to Xi’s comatose body, grabbed hold of the blue pendant – the Lazuli Serpent – and yanked it off.
‘Quickly!’ the others called. ‘Let’s go!’ The soldiers were rapidly approaching.
For a moment Jake froze. A stray sword was lying on the ground and he grabbed it and held it up in both hands. With one blow he could kill his enemy. He made to thrust downwards – but stopped just short. Philip . . . If he killed Xi, he might never find his brother.
As the guards stormed through the gates, Jake turned and ran, leaping onto the back of the throne and then up to the roof. Drenched to the skin, the four of them set off across the palace roofs, the steaming rain pounding down around them.
17 THE DRAGON BAZOOKA
‘THIS WAY – BACK to the Ocean Door,’ Topaz called, pointing towards the rocky outcrop that divided the palace from the rest of the city. The golden tiles were slippery underfoot and they had to take care. Horns were sounding everywhere now, and hundreds of soldiers emerged from every doorway.
‘Here . . .’ Nathan said, passing the key to Topaz. She unfastened her manacles, throwing them off, and handed it to Yoyo – who did the same before giving the key to Jake.
Having freed themselves, they continued to the main square – to find a volley of arrows whistling towards them through the curtains of rain. ‘Down!’ Topaz cried out. They ducked just in time, hearing the clatter of missiles against the roof.
A second volley of arrows, followed by a third, rat-tat-tatted onto the tiles. The History Keepers doubled back, stumbling across the maze of rooftops, until they reached the jagged hill. They climbed the slope, and suddenly the vista of Canton opened out before them again. Constellations of lights marked out the port, with its thousands of ships and warehouses. The river, swollen by the downpour, was a fat black snake twisting through it.
They clambered down towards the Ocean Door and onto the roof of the teahouse. The Chinese opera was still playing below and the roof shook with the beats of the drums. They slid down it, lowered themselves one by one over the edge and jumped to the ground.
‘Quickly!’ Topaz shouted again, leading the way along the track towards the port. They reached the first of the warehouses and turned to see if they were being followed. Above them, there was another blare of horns, and a door – a vast black rectangle – appeared in the side of the rock itself. They heard the pounding of hooves, and suddenly soldiers on horseback came galloping through the opening. In seconds they were thundering down the slope, led by Madame Fang on a white stallion.
The four agents turned and ran into the warehouse. The workers shouted at them to stop, but they paid no attention. They found themselves in a colossal storeroom, stacked from floor to ceiling with millions of pieces of porcelain. They headed along the central aisle, which led out onto the dock.
Suddenly they heard hoofbeats, and Fang swept in on her white charger. Jake did a double take: she looked more formidable than ever in a silver breastplate, gleaming helmet, a giant steel sabre in her hand. As she scanned the room, her horse flared his nostrils and tossed his head. On seeing Jake and his friends, she called out to the cavalry outside.
Fang led them across the room, crashing into the stacks of china. Screaming dock-workers fled for cover.
Just as the agents approached the exit, a large pile of crates collapsed in front of them, the porcelain shattering in their path. As they climbed over the debris, Jake glanced back and saw stack after stack of white china toppling to the floor in billows of dust. Spearheading the destruction, Fang still held her sword up, black eyes fixed on Jake.
The History Keepers crunched their way through onto the docks, gazing around at the network of pontoons and wooden gantries. They followed a path along the water’s edge, but came to a dead end and had to turn back.
‘This way!’ Nathan shouted, leading them up a gangplank onto a large trading junk, where sailors were lowering crates of tea into the hold. They yelled in alarm as the strangers flew past, jumping over the rail onto the next vessel along. But a moment later, Fang had galloped aboard, followed swiftly by her soldiers, the horses’ hooves rapping like war drums on the deck. This time the sailors dived into the hold as horsemen careered around in pursuit of their prey.
Jake and the others hurtled from one deck to another, flying past bemused sailors, weaving in and out of sails. Fang and her men pursued them relentlessly, leaping over the ships’ rails. Some horses stopped dead, daunted by the gap between the vessels, or got entangled in rigging; some carried on even when they had lost their riders – a surging tide of them, froth dripping from their mouths, sweat mixing with the rain.
When the four agents reached the end of the line of ships, Nathan led the way down onto the shore. They rattled along a pontoon and dashed inside another warehouse, realizing that it was the spice depot they had passed earlier. The air fizzed with peppery odours as the workers filled kegs with rich-coloured powders.
‘Arm yourselves!’ Topaz ordered, holding her nose as she took hold of one of the casks.
‘You’ll have to excuse us . . .’ Nathan advanced towards a girl who was fixing labels on the barrels. ‘We have a situation,’ he added, taking hold of one and inspecting its contents. ‘Nutmeg? Great for the complexion.’
Just then, the doors flew open and Fang and her men galloped in. The youngsters started hurling the casks at them: many hit their mark, knocking the soldiers out of their saddles. The air was thick with spices and pepper, blinding the riders, and making them cough and sneeze. The horses whinnied and reared up, or simply bolted, out of control.
In the confusion, the agents escaped, following the zigzagging path of rickety pontoons, and ran into a third storehouse. They were immediately overpowered by the stench of fish sauce – at least ten open vats of it, each one full to the brim with festering brown gloop, alive with flies.
‘When they follow us in,’ Topaz panted, barely able to speak, ‘overturn the barrels.’ Quickly they took up positions behind the vats; the putrid aroma shot up Jake’s nose and coated the back of his throat, making him gag.
Once more, Madame Fang was the first to appear. Her horse was tiring, but she was still full of energy – though her cavalry was now drastically depleted.
Topaz gave the word: ‘Now!’ All at once, they overturned their barrels, sending the contents sweeping across in a tidal wave of fetid gunge, followed by swarms of flies, the noxious gases overpowering. Neighing in terror, many of the horses refused to go on.
Jake saw one last opportunity to stop their pursuers. Empty barrels had been stacked up, ten high, against the wall, with a wooden lever keeping them in place. He warned the others to stand clear, and then released them. A landslide of barrels juddered across the floor, knocking some of the horses over like skittles. They slipped and skidded on the wet floor, trying to regain their footing as their riders scrambled out of the way of the flailing hooves.
‘Let’s go!’ Topaz shouted, and the others followed her out of the back door.
‘The horses – see over there!’ Yoyo shouted, remembering the herd they had passed earlier on their way to t
he Ocean Door. They headed for a fenced enclosure, where a group of young mares was feeding. Jake threw open the gates, and they each picked a horse, vaulted up, dug their heels in and took off out of the pen.
The wranglers, who were eating their dinner nearby, shouted in alarm, and three of them gave chase. One caught up with Topaz and grabbed hold of her leg.
‘Je suis desolée,’ she said, aiming a kick and sending him cartwheeling back down the track.
The History Keepers tore up the slope away from the wharves. ‘Whoever gets to the Thunder first,’ Nathan yelled, ‘start the engine.’ He looked round. ‘And we still haven’t lost her.’
Jake glanced over his shoulder. Fang was in pursuit once again, whipping her horse, but there were now only two soldiers behind her.
The four agents crested the hill and tore down into the main part of the city. The streets were teeming with Cantonese, most sheltering from the rain under the awnings of bars and tea houses that had come alive after nightfall. Those in the middle of the road had to jump clear as the horses galloped past.
Finally they made it back to their ship. Leaving the mares on the quayside, they sprang aboard. Immediately Nathan went below decks and fired up the engine. Normally they’d at least make a show of raising the sails, but this was an emergency, and no one could hear the motor in the torrential rain anyway. Within moments, the Thunder had edged away from the pier and they breathed a sigh of relief.
But Madame Fang was not finished with them.
Jake saw her charging across the quay, sweeping aside anything in her path. He assumed she would stop at the dockside, as their ship was now several yards from the shore and the gap was widening. But she hurtled on, shouting her defiance. Jake’s eyes went wide as her stallion leaped across the chasm. The horse let out a whinny as his front leg caught on the rail, so that he thumped down onto the deck, hooves skidding. Fang was sent tumbling off.
History Keepers: Nightship to China Page 16
