Mei swallowed, not wanting to ask the next question, but needing to know. “How old were you?”
“I was twelve.”
“Aiiii…”
“Yes. That night, he took me. He paid no attention to my tears. My pleas. My blood. I was in agony. He didn’t care. He actually seemed to enjoy it more when I screamed that he was hurting me. When he was done, he fell off me and went to sleep. He lay there, snoring, with a stupid smile on his face.” Lin’s voice had become almost monotone, her face a mask. “It was the smile that did it for me. There was a vase on a stand near the bed. I picked up the vase, but it didn’t seem heavy enough. I picked up the stand instead. And I smashed his head in with it.”
Mei’s hand had gone to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.
Lin caught the look, but this time there was no comforting smile. “It took more than one blow. It took several. He tried to fight. But I’ve always been stronger than I look.”
Mei was stunned, but she had to ask. “What happened then? How did you get away?”
“I ran from the house. I didn’t know where I was going. It was dark and I was in a part of the city I’d never seen. Finally, I ended up down at the riverside. It was almost dawn, and the light on the Pearl River was earning it its name. I still remember how beautiful it was. How glad I was that so much beauty would be the last thing I saw before I died.”
“Before you…died?”
“I knew that if I was caught, I’d be executed. But not until after they tortured me to make an example of me. I wasn’t going to be hurt anymore. So, I gathered up rocks, took my torn clothes, and made a bag of them that I hung around my neck. Then I jumped in the river.”
“But you didn’t die.”
The White Orchid chuckled at that. “No, Little Sister, I didn’t die. I hadn’t done a very good job. The bag came undone, the rocks fell out, and I bobbed to the surface. When I woke up, I was on one of the Red Boats.”
Mei’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The Red Boats?”
The White Orchid nodded. “You’ve never heard of the Red Boat Operas of the Pearl River?”
Mei shook her head.
“They were traveling players,” Lin explained. “Up and down the river, two boats to each company, putting in at any town that seemed likely to provide an audience. Traditional dramas, mostly, but there were some humorous short plays that the audiences seemed to like.” Lin smiled at the memory. “One of the older players, Chee So, took pity on me. Took me in. He was a good man. At first, I was just set to cooking and cleaning up. Only men were allowed as players, dressing up as women. But then, I got lucky in the lottery.”
Mei inclined her head curiously. “The lottery?”
“At the beginning of every season, everyone drew lots to see who slept where. The best cabins were the ones up front, of course, away from the kitchen and the toilets. And I got one.”
“Didn’t they resent that? You were new. And a child.”
“Ah, Little Sister, that was the beauty of the lottery system. Even the newest and poorest members of the company could get the best cabins, and then the other, richer ones could buy those cabins from them.”
“Ah.” Mei nodded. “So the new members could get a start in life.”
“Just so. Except when they came to me, I didn’t ask for money.” Lin smiled. “I demanded to be part of the company. And to learn to fight.”
Mei blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“The secret of the Red Boats was that they formed part of the resistance to the Quing emperor. The time of the Manchus was done, they believed. And they hoped to bring on a new way.”
“But what does that have to do with fighting?”
“Many of the Red Boat plays featured fights and battle scenes. But the stage fighting was a cover for the real art of Wing Chun.”
Mei frowned. “Wing Chun is just a story.”
“No, Little Sister, it’s very real. Hidden for years, but kept alive from generation to generation. And Chee So was a master of the art.”
“So, they just let you join?”
Lin shook her head. “They laughed at me at first. Till I challenged the biggest and strongest player, a young man everyone called Ox, to fight me.”
“And you defeated him?”
Lin chuckled. “Oh, no. He beat me soundly. I learned that watching an art be practiced, no matter how intensely you observe, doesn’t really teach it to you.” She sighed in remembrance of the pain. “Oh, yes, I learned that lesson well that day. And for all the days after of nursing my bruises. But what made up Chee So’s mind was this: whenever Ox knocked me down or threw me to the ground, I’d get back up. Finally, Chee called an end to the fight. I was limping and bloody, but I was not beaten. So, I became a member of the company.”
“But you said only men could be players.”
“And soon the word spread on the river about the new boy who could play the female parts so convincingly.” Her face became wistful again. “It was a good life. And I learned so much more than fighting.”
“But…it came to an end.”
“Yes. A man rose up in the south of China. He claimed he was the brother of the white devil’s god, the one named Jesus. Totally mad, of course, but he gathered an army of millions to oppose the Qing emperor. Many of the Red Boat troupes saw opportunity and joined him.” Her face took on that blank look again, the one that caused Mei to want to draw away from her. “It was the same story as ever. The rebels began to bicker among themselves. The madman died, some say by his own hand. And the rebellion was crushed.”
Mei felt her heart fluttering in her throat. “What happened to your troupe?”
The White Orchid’s eyes were far away. “I had gone to the market to buy oranges. I loved oranges. I still do. I was on my way back to the docks with my little bag of oranges when I saw the smoke.”
“Oh no…”
“The emperor’s soldiers had come. There were ten of them. Ten against a hundred on the boats, but they had guns. Even a small cannon. The troupe had rifles too, of course, but they were caught by surprise.” She took a deep breath. “When I got to the docks, the boats were on fire. My home was on fire. They had everyone lined up along the wharf. The emperor’s soldiers were prodding people into lines with their bayonets to watch their home burn. Then they began shooting.” She turned that bleak gaze on Mei. “They shot everyone down. Everyone. Actors, acrobats, even the cook. Some tried to run. Some tried to fight. But everyone was killed. Killed in cold blood.” Then The White Orchid did something that chilled Mei to the bone. She smiled. Mei had seen many different smiles from the older woman—friendly, mischievous, affectionate—but this was the most terrifying smile she had ever seen on a human face. It barely looked human at all. Lin’s voice was almost crooning as she said the next words. “But I had my vengeance, oh, yes. Yes. I ran away, but not before I memorized every soldier’s face. I followed them back to their barracks. And then, over the next few weeks, I lived like an animal in the streets. I stole food. I slept in alleys near the barracks. But I caught up with each of the soldiers. One by one. In the taverns, in the brothels, in the market. And I killed them. Every one of them. And on each body, I left a flower.”
“A white orchid,” Mei whispered.
The smile went away. Mei was never so happy to see a smile leave a person’s face. “Yes. And you know what I felt when it was done? When I stood over the body of the last soldier with his life’s blood dripping from my blade?”
Mei shook her head, unable to speak.
“Nothing,” Lin said. “I felt nothing. All the fear, the pain, the rage…it was gone. As if it had been poured out onto the alleys and tavern floors with the blood of the soldiers. I was totally empty. And I’m empty to this day.” She looked at Mei. Her eyes had lost all expression, her face blank. Mei had seen her face go as solid as a mask before, but now she realized that the bright, vivacious, sometimes affectionate persona of The White Or
chid—that was the true mask. And behind it, despite Lin’s words, there wasn’t total emptiness. There was a deep well of rage and malice that was terrifying to contemplate, embodied in a smile that Mei knew would haunt her dreams.
The White Orchid went on. “The emperor’s men were looking everywhere for me. It was only a matter of time before they caught up with me and sent me to the Board of Punishments. You’ve heard of them?”
Mei nodded.
“For killing the soldiers of the emperor, the Board would see to it that I took days to die,” Lin said. “Maybe weeks. But Mr. Kwan heard about me. He thought I was someone he could use. He sent his younger brother Fang to offer me employment and a place to live. And when they came to America, I came with them.” She looked at Mei. “And now that you know my story, now that you know what I am, I don’t suppose we can be friends anymore.”
“I…that’s not true.” In truth, Mei didn’t know what to think. Part of her wanted to run, the other half wanted to rush over and comfort the shattered woman who she still wanted to believe was her friend.
The door opened and the old woman who seemed to run the household stuck her head in. “Mr. Kwan wants to see you,” she snapped. “Now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The Coast was in its usual state of bedlam. Groups of men lurched about the sidewalks. Cade spotted a few dressed in what looked like naval uniforms, so maybe the U.S. Navy was in town, its bluejackets like sheep looking for a place to get sheared. Barkers called out from the doorways of bars and music halls.
“Pretty waiter girls! Most beautiful in town!”
“Plain talk and beautiful girls!”
“Enough to make a blind man see!”
Cade had seen enough of those “pretty waiter girls” when he’d first hit town to render him permanently skeptical of even the mildest of those claims.
A short, wiry little man in ragged trousers and a frock coat was turning away from a group of young dudes. He was carrying a baseball bat under one arm. He caught sight of Cade and walked purposefully toward him. “Hit me with a bat for four bits? Only four bits to hit me with this bat, sir?”
“Not tonight, Oofty,” Cade called back.
The man blinked, looking up at Cade. “Oh, howdy, Mr. Cade. Didn’t recognize you on horseback.”
Cade beckoned to him. “Come on over. Maybe I have an easier way for you to earn four bits.”
The man only known to the Barbary Coast as Oofty Goofty walked over with his distinctive bow-legged stride. His real name was lost to time. He’d come to the city performing “The Wild Man of Borneo,” shaking the bars of a cage in a Market Street freak show, screaming, “Oofty Goofty! Oofty Goofty!” at the fascinated crowd, who supposedly figured they were being hectored in the native language of whatever savage land Borneo was. Unfortunately for him, his “wild man” costume, composed as it was of horsehair stuck onto him with road tar, proved bad for his health, landing him in the hospital for a stretch. About that time he discovered his true God-given talent: for whatever reason, he’d become completely insensitive to pain. After that, he began roaming the streets, offering to be kicked, slapped, even hit with his famous bat, for a price. That kind of entertainment had never been to Cade’s taste, but apparently enough people found amusement in it to keep Oofty fed and bandaged.
Cade stopped the mare, by the side of the street, where she seemed oblivious to the milling crowds. Oofty patted her on the muzzle, looking up at Cade. “What can I do for you on this fine evening, Mr. Cade?”
“I’m lookin’ for a fella named McMurphy.” He recalled his last conversation with Hamrick. “Patrick McMurphy.”
Oofty rubbed his chin. “Don’t recollect the name.”
“Stays with his pappy. The old man’s a little gone in the head. Wanders around street preaching.”
Oofty nodded, his wrinkled face screwed up in concentration. “I’ve seen the old preacher. He’s out sometimes down near Kearney.” He shook his head. “Folks is pretty bad to him. They toss mud, sometimes bricks at the poor old fellow.”
“Guess they don’t come to the Coast to hear the world of the Lord.”
Oofty frowned in indignation. “But what I want to know is, how is a man supposed to make an honest livin’ gettin’ hit when bastards like him is givin’ it away for free?”
“Folks’ll always prefer the work of a professional, Oofty.” Cade handed him a dollar. “Here. Take the rest of the night off. And send word if you see McMurphy or his pa. I’m stayin’ at The Royal.”
Oofty’s bushy eyebrows went up. “The Royal. You’re movin’ up in the world, Mr. Cade.”
“I wish. G’night, Oofty.”
“See you around, Mr. Cade.” He patted the horse on her muzzle again. “Nice horse.”
“Thanks.” As Cade urged the horse into a slow walk, he heard Oofty behind him, approaching another group of men. “Hit me with a bat for four bits, gents? Only four bits to hit me with this bat, gents.” He sighed. Some people just loved their work too much to take a day off. He headed down to Kearney Street. Maybe he’d get lucky.
***
Kwan was seated behind his desk. He didn’t look pleased.
“Cade is no longer employed by Hamrick,” he said. “He no longer lives at the house. He is at The Royal Hotel.”
Mei wondered at how Mr. Kwan always seemed to know what was going on, even among the white devils.
The White Orchid took a seat without being asked. Her face was grave. “Will he continue to search out the people behind this plot against you?”
Kwan placed his hands flat on the desk in front of him. “I want you to remind him of what I expect.”
The White Orchid nodded. “How strong a reminder would you require?”
“There is no need for harsh measures. Not now. Just let him know what his obligation is.”
“Sir?” Mei spoke up.
Kwan turned to her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “What is it?”
Mei swallowed. She couldn’t believe herself that she’d been bold enough to speak up. But her hesitation was making him impatient, she could tell. “You speak of obligation. But he isn’t family. He isn’t even Chinese.”
Kwan frowned. “So?”
“I think she means you should pay him,” The White Orchid spoke up. “Perhaps some in advance.”
Kwan nodded. “Yes. Of course.” He grimaced. “They have no loyalty, and they trust no one. They think only of money.”
Lin and Mei exchanged glances. “Yes,” Lin said.
Kwan reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a beautifully carved wooden box. Without speaking, he counted out a stack of coins and pushed it across the table. “Here. Get this to him. And let him know there is more to be had if he succeeds.”
“Your generosity is legendary, sir,” The White Orchid murmured. She took the money and tucked it into a fold in her robe. “Come, Little Sister,” she said to Mei. “We have a call to pay.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The Kearney Street area was a bust. He didn’t spot the preacher, so he stopped into a few taverns, music halls, and toward the end of the evening, some particularly greasy looking deadfalls, asking if anyone knew McMurphy or his father. The name drew blank looks, but quite a few people recalled the crazy preacher. Cade spread some money around, letting folks know there’d be more coming if anyone could help him find McMurphy. The coins disappeared into pockets and petticoats with a knowing wink and an assurance that yessir, Mr. Cade, I’ll let you know. Cade had little faith in any of it, but he figured just one strike at his hook might lead to landing this particular fish.
He turned the horse back in at the stable and gave her a pat on the muzzle, before making his way back to the Royal. This late, the ornate lobby was deserted and dimly lit. There was a different man behind the front desk, a hulking bruiser with a walleye that wandered to the side of whoever the man was looking at. Cade figured he’d been hired more for his si
ze and his ability to intimidate late-night troublemakers than for his good looks.
Cade walked up to the desk and gave the man a nod. “Any messages for Cade?”
One eye squinted at him suspiciously, while the other regarded the lobby. “And who the hell are you?”
Cade replied with as much patience as he could muster. “I’m Cade.”
The front desk man looked as if that meant nothing to him, so Cade added, “I’m a guest of Mrs. Townsend. Room 345.”
That got a result. The desk clerk actually got up off his stool and stood reasonably straight.
“Sorry, sir. Yes, sir.” He turned to a row of cubbyholes behind the desk, searched for a moment, then pulled out an envelope. “Here you go, sir.”
Cade took it and examined the outside. It was made of what seemed to be very expensive paper, and it felt strangely heavy. “Thanks. I’ll be turning in.”
“Very good, sir.” The clerk looked sheepish. “And sorry for the misunderstanding, sir.”
“No worries. You look sharp, now.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Cade mounted the stairs, he hefted the envelope in his hand. On the second-floor landing, curiosity got the better of him. He didn’t want to wait until he got to his room, so he took out his pocketknife and slit the envelope open.
It was full of gold coins. Several of them. He took them out and examined them, jingling them in his hands. He frowned. He’d already been paid by Mrs. Hamrick’s captain. Now this? He noticed that something else had fallen from the envelope, a small piece of paper. He bent and picked it up. It was a square, about two inches by two inches. There was no writing on it, just a symbol. No, a stamp, embossed on the fine paper in green ink. It took a couple of seconds to register what it was.
A green Chinese dragon.
Cade stuffed the coins back in the envelope and took the steps two at a time going back downstairs. The walleyed desk man looked up in surprise. “Help you, sir?”
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