by null
It was as if she had stepped onto a different planet. Cool, iridescent mists from sprinklers drifted across pockets of verdant lawn, giving the air a mountain freshness; the chuckle of moving water subdued a distant clamor from the waterfront far below.
Seeming to float in the midst of these spectacular gardens was a teahouse belonging to the age of the Han. Dazzled by her surroundings, she followed a pebbled pathway through banks of white chrysanthemums, to where ancient statuary guarded the entrance.
J. T. Ching waited there in a black silk robe that gave him a priestly appearance. “Welcome to my garden in the clouds. I did not think you would come so soon,” he said, waving her to a comfortable seat.
“I do not need to sit for what I have to say.”
“Nonsense,” he said, “even an occasion such as this requires good manners.” He gave a sharp clap of his hands, and a young Chinese boy appeared, bowing, to sit in the lotus position behind a small table set with many tiny cups, bowls, and teapots. A row of gleaming samovars were arranged on a sideboard within his reach.
“You may know that I have an interest in fine teas, as did our fathers and their fathers before them. It is a passion I once shared with your father. Is what you have to say so important that it cannot wait for the drinking of tea?”
Sing was almost disarmed by his engaging manner. “Forgive me if I appear less than cordial, but if our conversation is to be a civilized one, then I accept gladly.”
He nodded agreeably. “This boy can neither hear nor speak, but he has a nose for blending tea. May I suggest he choose a blend according to his perception of you? He is rather good at it.”
The boy looked at Sing with large, intrusive eyes, then began the intricacies of the ancient tea ceremony.
“I admire the great ones of the past, both Chinese and Japanese.” He turned to a narrow altar stand of black lacquer, backed by a latticed screen of great beauty that housed a magnificent samurai sword.
“For many generations the House of Ching has imported fine tea and lacquerware from Suruga Bay on the island of Honshu.” He was speaking as though to himself. “It is the home of the last shogunate, the family that ruled Japan for three hundred years through the knights of Bushido—the way of the warrior.”
Ching removed the sword with great reverence, admiring its double-handed hilt of gold and ivory, its scarlet scabbard exquisitely inlaid with gold. When he slowly drew the blade from its sheath, it made no sound but seemed to slice the air. “This sword was given to me by General Hideki Tojo, the finest military mind in the world, who is soon to be the greatest leader under the Rising Sun.” He ran a finger lovingly along the back of the blade, which suddenly flashed in an arc so close to Sing’s head that she could feel her hair move from its force.
“A little demonstration in case you think me old and slow.” He sheathed the sword with practiced ease, bowing to her. “You did not blink an eye. I am impressed.”
The tea was served in tiny thimble-size cups from a black lacquered tray. The boy’s eyes looked directly into hers for the second it took to offer it; she could not be sure if it was with impertinence or warning.
“This is a tea so rare it must be served in cups of pure gold,” Ching boasted. “Battles were fought over the mountain where this bush is grown.” The aroma alone threatened Sing’s resolve. She remembered the nectar of the golden persimmon. It hastened the words she had come to say.
“We both know that I am here because you have found me. I expected this to happen, but had no way of knowing where or when. Hearing you speak of my father makes my purpose easier. It means that you know who I am.”
“Devereaux is a name of greatness,” he replied with absolute sincerity. “Respected in many parts of China open to the river trade, and feared in some.” He bowed with an exaggerated sweep. “It pleases me to know that Topaz, my choice of jewel, was born to one of such great taste in all things rare and pleasing to the senses.”
When Sing ignored his clumsy flattery, he went on. “You are the only person to have taken tea in the Cloud Palace other than my sons, certainly the only woman. But then, you are a member of my family, are you not?”
“You know that I am not. You had no right to possess me. I do not believe that money and power can buy a human life.”
“Sadly, it can. This was a business transaction. In good faith, I entered into a contract with a procuress of the highest esteem. No law has been broken. It is you who dishonored this agreement, not I.”
Sing fought to keep anger from her voice. The warrior’s greatest enemy is rage … the crane sees the tiger’s rage but she remains calm.
“My family name is as respected as the name of Ching—I am no one’s slave. You judged my value by the services I rendered for your comfort and pleasure, an accompaniment to your borrowed dreams. I withdrew those services. I am here as the only child of a great taipan, to repay my debt to you and to end the blood feud between our two families.”
Sing placed the briefcase on the table before him and sprang the twin locks with her thumbs, revealing neatly arranged documents bound in place with red tapes. She removed several packs of new banknotes and stacked them neatly before him.
Keeping the level of reason in her voice, she slid the opened case across the table. “I keep my own counsel on matters of my value—not in the eyes of others but in my own. But you are right, money and power can change the world of others … even buy and sell another’s life and honor. I have come to take back my own and that of my family.”
He listened to her, his face impassive. “You are here at my bidding, because at this moment you are my property. You are fortunate that I did not have you thrashed and dragged here.”
“By whose law? I have discovered many things now that I have claimed my name. I do not recognize the sung-tip of the Golden One. Hers is a world that is past: The buying and selling of children is no longer permitted; neither is the smoking of opium.”
He laughed at her presumption. “There is no price to be put upon my honor. What is this that you offer me?”
“The money is my only debt to you. It is three times that which you paid to Tamiko-san.”
She paused for a moment. “I also have something more powerful than money—the truth. The case before you contains the private journals of my father, Captain Benjamin Devereaux, along with the journals of my grandfather. As you know, they both did business with the House of Ching. Our grandfathers became rich in the opium trade and shared many ventures together. But your father and mine became enemies, and a blood oath was sworn to destroy the male lineage of the Devereaux name. These journals were kept as protection against treachery.”
The smile had left his face. Sing met his eyes squarely. “I have made it my business to learn what I can of Hong Kong’s rule of law, though it is nothing to the law of the black society. But it might serve you to see what these documents contain.”
He looked suddenly thoughtful. “What do you think you have discovered that could harm my name or my company?”
Sing sat forward in her seat, demanding his attention. “Your grandfather forced my grandfather, Jean-Paul Devereaux, to flee Shanghai with nothing but his infant son, my father. His wife, my grandmother, was Chinese of noble Manchu birth, but that did not save her from the revenge of the Yellow Dragon. My mother, Li-Xia, also died most hideously by the hand of a Boxer brave.”
She stood up with the face and voice of a warrior. “So, tell me … why should I be afraid of you? What more could you do except to kill me too, and I am not afraid of that.”
“Do you accuse me of involvement in the crimes you speak of?” Ching asked coldly.
She looked past the threat in his voice. “Of course not; my word would be nothing against the word of the taipan Ching. In this case are copies of the Devereaux family’s records of its dealings with the House of Ho-Ching and the secret society of the Yellow Dragon triad. They expose the society’s heritage as the family Ching, and its dragon heads as the eldest son
of each generation. They prove without question that you are now the dragon head, overlord of the society’s lodges all over the world.”
Leaving the tea untouched, she rose from her chair. “I ask only that you read these pages and consider their value to you. The originals are held in my lawyer’s safe, with copies in places even you will never find. If anything happens to me, my friends, or my future family, they will be delivered to the governor’s office. If they are, the name of Jack Teagarden Ching will no longer be respected as a pillar of society and a public benefactor. You will be revealed as the traitor who tried to blackmail Colonel Pelham into a cowardly betrayal of his country. You will go to prison for a long time, and your ancestors will cry with shame.”
He ignored the open case. “If I should agree to release you from the sung-tip and guarantee to end the blood oath, will the original documents be delivered to me with nothing withheld?”
“You have my word on it … but I can never be certain that another copy could have been made without my knowledge and used without my approval. There are many who care what happens to me.” Sing placed the documents beside the banknotes, closing the case in readiness to leave. “Accept this payment or not … but I owe you nothing.”
“You have overlooked one important thing, Topaz. In a matter of weeks this island will no longer be a British colony, but a possession of the Imperial Japanese Empire. The golden idols that allowed you to pass are Diabutsu, the Buddhas of Japan. I am well prepared. What good will your documents be then?”
Sing had descended the steps, but turned to look back at him, silent for a heartbeat. “If Hong Kong falls to the Japanese, then Britain and her allies will liberate it. If you do not believe this, then burn them if you wish. I think this is a risk you dare not take.”
Ching studied her, then turned to look across the expanse of Victoria Harbor. “Is there anything more to this bargaining of yours?”
“There are two other people involved. Both are murderers. The one who caused my mother’s cruel death was an elder brother, a dai-lo of the Yellow Dragon. He is known as Chiang-Wah.”
The dragon head’s face showed no change. “Chiang-Wah the Fierce is dead; he will trouble you no more. And the other?”
“The Forceful One, who licks your boots, is known to me since childhood. While he lives, my life and the lives of those I love will always be in danger. Warn him not to seek me.”
Ching stood to indicate the interview was at an end. “I will have my lawyers look at these papers. If they are as you say”—he smiled more pleasantly—“and even if they are not, the blood oath sworn between the House of Ching and the House of Devereaux will be at an end. Our fathers are already at peace in the afterlife. Let us do nothing more to disturb them.
“Ah-Keung is another matter,” Ching went on. “He fears no one, not even me. He obeys me while I pay him well … but I do not trust him. You must settle your score with him in your own way.”
CHAPTER 34
The Amulet
Sing hardly ever saw Toby these days; he was working day and night as the Japanese moved ever closer to Hong Kong. She spent many hours with Angus learning the details of her business holdings, and started using the office above the godowns at Causeway Bay, where her mother had once checked the manifests and bills of lading from Double Dragon vessels. It was a small room with just enough space for a desk, wooden filing cabinets, two visitors’ chairs, and shelves overflowing with ledgers. She found sheaves of port clearance certificates bearing the chop of Li-Xia, Comprador.
There was a knock at the door of the office one afternoon. Before she could look up, a man opened it and said, “Forgive me for coming unannounced, but I did not think you would see me if I asked permission. You are so important now.” It was the voice of Ah-Keung.
He closed the door and seated himself before her, unbuttoning a black leather jacket. “The maker of pipes for the Japanese whoremonger has come a long way from the Emperor of Sausages, and the ballroom of old Moneybags Poon.”
“What do you want of me?” Sing asked calmly.
Ah-Keung gave her a slow, sly smile. “Do not worry, Little Star, I have not come to claim my share of your success. I wish only to return that which belongs to you.” From his neck he took the jade amulet of the crane and the tiger on its precious chain.
“I knew that you had lied, that it was not stolen by reed-cutters. They were afraid to enter his presence in life; they would never do so in death.”
He spread his hands in a gesture of reason. “You were too young to wear it then. It was my duty to protect it for you.” He held the amulet out to her. “It is yours by right. You were his last disciple, not I.”
“I do not believe you,” she said coldly. “Why did you not return it in the Nine Dragons?”
“If you had spoken to me privately as I asked, I would have returned it then.” He shrugged. “But I have no wish to quarrel with you. Come, let us talk of our childhoods and remember the Place of Clear Water, where the old ones are at peace.”
He looked at her with a smirk that suddenly made her see beyond the amulet to other lies. “The Fish was a Tanka,” she said slowly. “She was born on the water. Like all boat people she knew the sea, the river, and the lake as one knows their own family. She was not one to drown in water no deeper than her belly.”
The satisfaction on Ah-Keung’s face did not change as Sing went on with a terrible certainty. “Master To was strong and knew the secrets of longevity. It was the contents of the gourd that killed him so easily. Do you deny this?”
His careful reply was mocking. “I kept many potions in many gourds when seeking and dispensing herbs. For years I found the ginseng that made his tea. Sometimes I combined the venom of yan-jing-shi with the midnight berry to sell to the doctor in the village. Is it possible that the gourds became mixed up?”
He spread his hands helplessly. “Could I have made such a terrible mistake? This is something we may never know. As for the old woman, her heart was too tired to chase the mud crab. She died as she was given breath, on the water. There was no other way.”
He shrugged again, then held the jade amulet up to the light from the window, its moss-green seams running like veins through its milky translucence. “See, does it not still hold the power of the crane and the wisdom of the sages?”
Ah-Keung leaned across the desk. “Allow me the honor of putting it where it belongs. Is this so much to ask? Have I not returned that which the master bequeathed to you?”
The flash of instinct that told Sing to spring to her feet passed as quickly as it had shot through her. This was not the time or place. Let him replace it, then he will go, a voice inside her whispered.
She felt his hands lift her hair, gently, with a long, stroking motion, then his fingers fastened the chain. They dropped to her shoulders and for seconds held them firmly. Sing felt his power pass through her like a current as she lifted her head, compelling her to look into his eyes and beyond them into those of yan-jing-shi.
A knock on the door broke the spell. Swiftly as a shadow, Ah-Keung moved to the window as Angus stuck his head around the door. “Oh, excuse me, I thought you were alone.”
“It’s all right, Angus. We’ve finished our business. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” Angus hesitated, then withdrew.
Ah-Keung remained at the window, looking down at the crowded causeway, He seemed suddenly harmless, his ungainly frame slouching, the arrogant swagger gone. Sing felt a twinge of pity at the sight of his angular face, the bristling hair cropped close to his large skull. At this moment he was no longer the Forceful One, but the unwanted boy with the twisted foot, who had found his way to survive and face his tormentors.
“Is it not in your heart to forgive the mistakes of a broken boy?” he asked humbly.
“I bear you no malice,” she replied. “But we have chosen different ways. Let them remain apart.”
“I have paid for my pride. The taipan no longer needs my services,” he said tonel
essly, “while you have found fortune and many friends. You are protected by the white-haired devil with the eyes of a pretty child; you may even have a child someday.”
He shook his head sadly. “I am forced to live behind the walls of Ling Nam, the city of the damned. It is there that you can find me.” He placed a folded slip of paper on the desk before her.
“Good-bye, Ah-Keung,” Sing said quietly. “It is time for you to leave.”
“Perhaps you are right,” he replied simply. “I have done what I came to do. But I think you will see me again, Little Star.” The door closed and he was gone.
Outside in the blazing sunlight Ah-Keung paused to wind several gleaming hairs from Sing’s head into a tight curl. It glittered, bright and alive as copper in the sun, as he folded it into a square of red cloth and put it carefully in the pocket of his leather jacket.
Behind the well-guarded gates of the Villa Formosa, Sing Devereaux contemplated what she must do. She had always known the crane would have to face the tiger one day, and she was not afraid. But never had she thought that any life but her own might be in danger. Now she could not forget the quiet threat in Ah-Keung’s words: “You have many friends; you may even have a child someday.”
The words of Master To returned to her as well:
The crane was content to live quietly in the marsh, to build its nest in the rushes and to dry its wings on the sandbar. But the tiger came seeking the crane in the reed bed and tried to destroy her. She was ready, and defeated her attacker through the power of her wings and the steel of her feet and the blade of her beak. It will always be like this. The crane must be constantly vigilant. It was time for Sing to meet the destiny she had trained for on the Rock of Great Strength.
