The Concubine's Daughter

by null

  Sing looked past his hand. “I will not go upstairs with you. I choose those I wish to speak with; they do not choose me.”

  His face darkened visibly. “You will welcome me, if you do not want me to report you to a very angry taipan who is eager to find you.”

  He withdrew his hand and looked her contemptuously up and down. “Master To chose the wrong disciple; you are obviously not a warrior but a whore. It is time that I prove this to be true.”

  The cup of tea flung into Ah-Keung’s face caused heads to turn and Number Five to press the emergency button in her cubicle behind the bar. A sudden flush turned the Forceful One’s sallow face burning red.

  “So the spirit of the Little Star has not been dimmed by squealing pigs or sleeping dragons.” The hand that shot out to grasp her wrist was swift as a lash. His other hand would have swept across her face and back in a double slap, but Sing blocked it and broke his grip with ease.

  The elevator doors slid open. Three-thumbs Poon emerged with a bodyguard on each side. When they saw Ah-Keung, the guards stopped short, leaving Three-thumbs to proceed alone. Sing could smell his fear.

  “Please, Ah-Gor.” Poon used the respectful title of “Elder Brother.” “I want no trouble. Tell me what has happened to displease you?”

  Ah-Keung picked up a napkin to wipe his dripping face. “You can teach your whores some respect,” he hissed. “But I will deal with this one myself.”

  The voice of Three-thumbs Poon was shrill with alarm. “Please, I beg of you. She is young and inexperienced. She has not yet learned. She will be punished for her disrespect.”

  The orchestra had stopped playing, the voice of the singer trailing away with the sound of discordant strings. Ah-Keung’s fury seemed to slip away in the silence. “No. Do not punish her. We are old friends, Number Twelve and I. We have much to talk about. Perhaps the surprise was too much for her.”

  He winked at Three-thumbs Poon. “I will be here tomorrow at this time. See that she is ready to receive me in your finest rooms as your most important guest … and that she shows me respect, or I will blame you for her bad manners.”

  A new voice interrupted him. “It is you, my friend, who will learn some manners.” Toby Hyde-Wilkins stood two paces away. He had come from the stairs without being noticed. Sing’s heart clenched with fear for him.

  Ah-Keung ignored him, addressing Three-thumbs directly. “What is this gwai-lo doing in the Nine Dragons?”

  Toby flicked open his official wallet and held it up. “Government authority,” he snapped sharply. “This young lady is a British national and the subject of an official inquiry.”

  The Forceful One stood in the almost-careless manner of one who welcomed violence. “Tell this tin soldier to get out while he can.”

  Before Toby could react, Sing stepped in front of him. “Ah-Gor is right. You do not belong here. You belong in the gwai-lo bars where the beer is cheap and so are the girls. Do as he says. Get out while you can. You can cause only trouble for me here.” Sing slapped Toby hard across the face.

  He stood motionless as she thrust her face close to his, trying to warn him through the look in her eyes of the danger he was in. Silence among the tables and from the dance floor was broken by a murmur here, a titter there, until it swelled into laughter, whistles, and shouts of approval: The gwai-lo should go, he was not welcome here. Someone began to clap his hands, which quickly became a rising tide of applause.

  After breathless seconds, Toby turned and descended the stairs without a word.

  When he had gone, Ah-Keung straightened, running his hands through his brittle hair, smoothing his lapels with a grin of approval as the applause became scattered and dropped away. “I am most impressed, Little Star. Perhaps there is more Chinese blood in your jarp-jung veins than I suspected.” His mood changed as he turned to Three-thumbs Poon, who was sweating freely, a grin of fright fixed on his face.

  “You should know better than to serve gwai-los, old moneybags. Do you want the police here?” he said icily. “I expect you to pay for this embarrassment.” He glanced at the gold watch. “See that Number Twelve awaits me in her room at this time tomorrow.”

  He straightened his jacket to look about him. The music had begun again and dancing had resumed as the buzz of excitement ebbed away. “Tell her who I am and what this means here in Wan-Chai. Let her not misunderstand me again, or I shall hold you responsible.”

  After Ah-Keung had left, Three-thumbs Poon warned Number Twelve that there was nothing he could do to help her, that her only protection would be in the deference and quality of her service to the Forceful One when he returned—or if she were just to disappear without delay… . He was almost in tears. “I will pay you well to leave my place of business. I have done nothing to deserve this terrible thing; have I not treated you well?”

  “I have been insulted enough this evening,” Sing replied. “Let us rest upon it.” She felt almost sick at the thought that she might have lost Toby forever.

  Early the following morning, after a sleepless night in which she and Ruby reviewed possible courses of action, each more dangerous than the last, Sing was summoned to the darkened office of Three-thumbs Poon. To her joy and relief, Toby was sitting opposite the desk, with Poon in the shadows, his unsteady hands holding a letter beneath the glare of the lamp.

  Toby stood the moment she entered, giving her his hand with a smile that told her all was understood. “Good morning, Miss Devereaux. I have been discussing my business here with our friend, Mr. Poon. We have found your name in the files at the Missing Persons Bureau. I have asked Mr. Poon to release you from his employment into my custody while we make further inquiries. He has kindly agreed.”

  He looked down at the uneasy face of Three-thumbs Poon. “Unless, of course, Mr. Poon would prefer to lodge a complaint against the removal of one of his employees? This would mean accompanying us to the department’s offices and revealing his methods of employment, details of his operation, a roster of his entire staff, and of course his taxation files over the past seven years … an ordeal I am quite sure he considers unnecessary.”

  Sing restrained her delight, almost sorry for the man with lucky thumbs. “Mr. Poon has been a generous and just employer. If he will kindly pay me the amount owed for my services, Ruby and I will leave him in peace.”

  An hour later, they had taken a taxi to the Star Ferry and were halfway across Victoria Harbor to Kowloon. Ruby watched the bags in the crowded saloon while Sing took Toby by the hand, leading him out onto the open deck and forward into the bow.

  “Please forgive me for last night’s unpleasantness. I do not know how to thank you for helping us in this way.” She looked up at him, his blond hair tugged by the crosswinds. “You have not asked me who he is or why he threatens me.”

  “You will tell me when you are ready.” He looked away across the choppy, olive-green waters churned by the harbor traffic and the midstream blow. “Meanwhile, it is my great pleasure to be of service. I am taking you to a place where you will be safe for a few days while we follow our inquiries.”

  The ferry pitched in the churning wake of a faster vessel, throwing her against him, and for a moment Sing was held tightly in his arms. It passed much too quickly.

  “His kind is not unknown to me,” he said, “nor is Jack Teagarden Ching. They are extortionists and enforcers, feared by their own people but not by mine. They do not welcome trouble with the British government. J. T. Ching is too clever to risk intervention over an issue as personal as this appears to be. He is a cunning operator; we suspect he has connections with organized crime in Japan. Believe me, J. T. Ching has been under close surveillance for a long time.”

  The wind freshened in sudden blasts. He placed his jacket over her shoulders. “Wouldn’t you rather join Ruby inside where it is warmer?”

  Sing shook her head. “I have learned how to find space on a boat that carries too many people. You just go as far into the bow as you can, and all the noise and scr
amble are left behind. From here you can feel the wind on your face, and if you are lucky, you might see dolphins. Everything unfolds before you; nothing lies hidden. It is always the best place to be.”

  They stood side by side, holding on to the pitching rail, the wind ripping at their hair. “I think I love rivers and boats, ships and the sea more than anything, perhaps because my father is a sea captain and my mother was a comprador. I spent my first days of life on a wondrous voyage up the Yangtze River. I owe my life to that voyage, and to the courage of the Tanka woman who was my father’s friend and my mother’s devoted servant. She told me many stories of my father and the beautiful ships he built … how he took my mother away on the grandest of these, with a name so wonderful that it holds a special place in my heart: Golden Sky.”

  As she spoke, his clear eyes were watching her mouth in a way that secretly thrilled her. She felt her cheeks burn under his gaze, telling herself that it was the freshness of wind over water.

  “One day,” he said, his arm tightening around her, “you must tell me of these amazing adventures of yours. Nothing you could say would surprise me.” He drew the jacket closer around her throat. “You are quite the most unusual young woman I have ever met.” Once again they were thrown together by the pitch and roll of the ferry. His arm tightened, and this time held her fast with no thought of letting go.

  CHAPTER 29

  The Happy Butterfly

  On the Kowloon side, they joined the swarm of passengers disembarking on the wharf beside the Ocean Terminal. Sing trusted Toby so completely she did not even ask where they were going until they were settled in a taxi.

  “I am taking you and Ruby to a quiet hotel for tonight; it is better that you are on this side of the harbor and away from Wan-Chai. I have been making inquiries about your father, and his business seems to have vanished. There is an acquaintance of mine, however, who once owned a small restaurant in Macao. She knows everyone and everything in this part of the world. We will meet with her tomorrow morning, but not too early; she does not receive visitors before eleven.”

  A wave of exhaustion washed over Sing, and she was grateful to sink into oblivion in the comfortable room he had found for her and Ruby on an obscure side street.

  In the morning, she awoke much refreshed, to find that Ruby was up before her, clearly relishing her regained freedom. “I never expected to leave the Nine Dragons again,” she said to Sing and Toby. “Thank you for taking me with you.”

  The ladies were amused by Toby’s apparent nervousness about introducing them to his old friend. “She may be a surprise to you, as she always is to those who do not know her. Her name is Lily Chu-Tin, known in Kowloon as Firecracker Lily, because everything about her seems to go off with a bang, although some say it is because of her explosive temper.”

  He turned to Sing with a quick grin of devilry. “Others say she earned it in bed when she was younger. Whatever the truth, she makes a wonderful friend but also a powerful enemy. Lily owns a dozen bars on the Kowloon side. No madam holds more power or is paid more respect. Even the sai-lo are careful in their dealings with her.”

  They were riding in a taxi along Nathan Road, a wide thoroughfare parallel to the waterfront flanked by massive buildings. The most imposing of these, Toby pointed out, was the famed Peninsula Hotel, the spectacular fountains at its entrance as splendid in their changing colors as a morning sky above the lake. He pointed out the military barracks a few blocks north, a high-walled enclosure entered by huge iron gates bearing the royal coat of arms.

  “I use an office there, from time to time. We sometimes visit the local bars for a beer or two, so I am quite well known in certain places.”

  Shortly beyond the Peninsula Hotel was a teeming side street with a sign over its entry reading HANKOW ROAD. Even before noon, they could see the neon signs ready to flicker to garish life: PINK PUSSYCAT, BOTTOMS UP, SEVEN SEAS, CAVE BAR, FIREHOUSE, YELLOW BRICK ROAD, WELCOME SAILOR, COLD BEER AND A FREE MASSAGE. Most spectacular of all was a gigantic butterfly that stretched its rainbow wings from one side of the road to the other.

  “Welcome to Hankow Road and the Happy Butterfly … the center of the universe,” he said.

  Firecracker Lily was indeed formidable. Built like a wrestler and standing only five feet tall in absurdly high-heeled shoes, she wore a wig that climbed in tier after tier of ringlets until it resembled an immense beehive. She greeted Toby like a loving mother. “Where have you been for so long? Why haven’t you come to see your Lily?”

  When she saw Sing and Ruby, she pushed him away in playful rebuke. “Why do you bring girls from the Hong Kong side? There are plenty of girls here waiting for you.” Instantly, a dozen girls smiled and called out greetings from the bar’s shadowy cubicles, where they read, knitted, sewed, or dressed each other’s hair in readiness for the evening trade.

  Toby was suitably embarrassed by the boisterous welcome, but embraced Lily with equal gusto. Sing smiled within, seeing enough in this gaudy little barroom to tell her more about Captain Toby Hyde-Wilkins than he could ever attempt to explain. A few minutes later, Lily led them upstairs to her private apartment overlooking the bedlam of Hankow Road. Seating them in her best armchairs and producing the inevitable pot of tea, she listened as Toby explained the purpose of their visit. When she inspected the photograph of Ben Devereaux and his wife, she nodded her head.

  “Yes, I remember Di-Fo-Lo. When he was a young man, he and his partner, Indie, came many times to my restaurant in Macao. I haven’t seen either of them in a long time, though.”

  She sat thinking, then said suddenly, “I know who might be able to help you. He was once a big doctor on the Shanghai side, and was a friend of your father’s; they used to go to the racetrack together.” She lowered her voice. “He once said Di-Fo-Lo sold guns to the Kuomintang to fight yut-boon-jai … very big business.”

  Sing knew “yut-boon-jai” meant “the Japanese boy”—the hated soldiers of the rising sun that were China’s oldest enemy. Sing leaned forward and asked Lily, “Where can we find this friend of my father’s—what is his name?”

  “Nobody knows his real name; he’s an American, but the girls call him Shanghai Smith. He drinks a little too much, but he’s a good doctor and he takes care of the girls. I give him free meals or a drink or two.”

  She smiled happily. “You were right to come to the Happy Butterfly. It’s eleven o’clock; he’s probably sitting down to breakfast in the bar right now.”

  When Lily introduced Shanghai Smith, Sing’s first thought was that he must have been truly handsome as a young man. His angular jaw was close shaven, his graying hair carefully trimmed and combed, his long-fingered hands well manicured. He was dressed in a baggy suit of crumpled white linen, a cream shirt brightened by a colorful hand-painted necktie, his two-tone shoes buffed to a high polish. He rose politely and kissed Ruby’s and Sing’s hands with the air of a man who had known many attractive women and never lost his respect for them.

  This gallant gesture was accompanied by a strong blend of fragrances that contrasted with the bar smells of stale beer, tobacco smoke, and burning joss sticks. When Sing commented on this, the doctor gave a slight bow of ac knowledgment, speaking with a broad American accent. “Florida water for the skin … Californian Poppy for the hair, and lashings of Lifebuoy soap.” He rubbed his hands together vigorously. “I trust you do not find it too overpowering; one is often tempted to be a little heavy-handed in matters of hygiene when reduced to practicing on Hankow Road.”

  Sing returned his friendly manner with a smile. I like him, she thought. He smells nice and has good manners and makes me feel important. I think he will help me if he can.

  “It is an honor to meet you, sir. We are grateful for your precious time.”

  He invited them to join him in his corner booth, bearing a brass plaque elaborately engraved with shanghai smith, md. He made sure that the ladies were seated before sliding into the seat facing them. “I can recommend the full English b
reakfast,” he said, shaking out a napkin. “There are few establishments on the Kowloon side that serve a better one than our Lily. But,” he turned to Sing and Ruby, “if you would prefer, Lily also serves an excellent rice congee.”

  He exchanged business cards with Toby. “Now, what can I do for you and these lovely young ladies, Captain?”

  The doctor’s face lit up when Toby explained their mission. “I was privileged to know Ben Devereaux very well indeed.” He paused as Lily bore down on them with a tray loaded with tea things.

  “Gnow-lie-cha—cow’s-milk tea for you, and ching-cha, green tea for the ladies,” she said. “One Bombay oyster for our good doctor.” She set before him a tall glass, a bottle of ice-cold beer, and two eggs, then bustled away to the kitchen.

  Smith poured the beer into the tilted glass with the precision of a pharmacist dispensing a critical potion, cracked the raw eggs into its foaming head and drank the concoction with relish. “A hair of the proverbial dog. I find it an indispensable start to the day.” He signaled to Lily for his first gin and tonic, then turned to them seriously. “Now, what is it you wish to know about Ben Devereaux?” He inspected the photograph, listening carefully to Sing’s account of her circumstances. After a moment or so, he reached across the table to lay his hand on hers.

  “We could talk for hours about your father, and I would be delighted to do so in time to come. But you are wondering where to find him now. Sadly, it has been many years since he and I last shared a drink in the long bar of the Shanghai Club, or placed a bet at the Happy Valley racetrack.”

  He finished the drink, which was immediately replaced by another. “You should seek out Indie Da Silva, who used to be Ben’s partner in the Double Dragon Trading Company. They were like father and son.” He toyed with the swizzle stick mounted by a glass butterfly. “Indie took your father aboard his trader when Ben arrived in Shanghai as a boy, and I was a bright-eyed student at the American College of Tropical Medicine. I became a surgeon, while they sailed the rivers of China together for a few years before Ben decided to command a vessel of his own… . Several years later they became partners in the double-D shipyard.”