“I like to be paid with money. I have no plantations, no fields to be tended. What use is a slave to me?”
“Why, Barrett, have you gone soft? I’ve laid it all out for you. They are raiding sugar plantations, coffee plantations, and tobacco plantations. All of which can be traded for weapons and sold elsewhere.” Liverpool’s eyes seemed to gleam.
Barrett was silent for a moment. “It’s a fantasy. We are a world away from Cuba. I doubt your facts are truly facts. Besides, I am no longer an adventurer. I’ve mellowed in my old age.”
“Oh, have you?”
“Indeed. I am not as dangerous as I used to be.”
Edmond’s face lost its joviality. “So be it. If it is women that you are looking for, then you have come to the right place, but I do not see any women with you.”
“We’re selective,” said Barrett.
“Very well, then let me provide the initiation.” Edmond scanned the room, then motioned to a large man waiting at the top of the stairs. He acknowledged Edmond, then turned and knocked on the door behind him. The door cracked, he said some words through it, and then a dream emerged. A beautiful girl with hair like a dark cloud haloed by moonlight slinked down the steps and made her way to their table.
“Gentlemen,” said Edmond, “allow me to introduce you to Mei.”
She bowed and let her gaze linger upon Archer.
Hua, Archer thought he heard her say. Archer could not look away from her. He recognized a kinship; dilated pupils, heavy lids, she indulged in the same vices as he.
Edmond placed his hand on the small of her back. She brushed it away as it drifted to her rear. “This is not a whorehouse,” she said with a smile and English accent. “Despite your best efforts to make it so.”
Edmond raised his hand. “Forgive me, Mei. Sometimes I forget the rules. There are so many rules.”
She addressed the others. “Gentlemen, you are not keeping appropriate company.” She smirked. “You do not see anything to your liking?”
“We do indeed,” said Barrett. “But we are here on business.”
She frowned and glanced at Edmond.
“No, not with him,” said Barrett.
Edmond stiffened. “You embarrass me, Barrett.”
“As I see it, you were doing a fine job of it on your own.” Barrett turned to Mei. “We are waiting for someone.”
“Perhaps you can tell me his name and I can provide you with some information regarding his whereabouts?”
Barrett stared at her and did not respond.
Mei touched Edmond on the shoulder. “Perhaps you should come with me, Edmond, and leave these gentlemen to their business.”
Edmond jerked away. “This is my old friend. I am looking forward to catching up with him. Very much so.”
Mei bent over and squeezed Edmond’s face. “Come,” she said. He smiled and showed his big teeth. Edmond stood. “Barrett, where are you staying? We shall have to meet and—”
“Now, Edmond,” said Mei.
Again, they waited for a long while. After some time, a man with glasses approached Barrett and then whispered something in his ear. When he left, Barrett stood. “We’re leaving.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Jupiter.
“Our meeting has been moved.”
• • •
They entered an unassuming tavern in an American section of the city.
“What now?” asked Jupiter.
“We wait,” said Barrett. “We make our presence known and our intentions secret. They will find us.”
Hours later, a man came to their table and sat down without asking. He was Chinese and dressed in the Western fashion of suit and tie. He waved to the waiter and a pot of tea appeared. He took a long sip, then smiled. “The tea leaf is an amazing thing, is it not? It’s funny, China has given the West silk and tea, and in return the West has given us disease and opium. And now, because of the way things are, guns. An ugly trade-off, don’t you think?”
The three of them were expressionless.
“You don’t find my observation persuasive?”
“No, on the contrary,” said Barrett. “It’s just that I have pointed out those details to them already. Upon hearing, the white one maintained a similar expression, but the black one seemed to nod knowingly. Overall, I think they got the gist of it.”
“You are a funny man, Captain Barrett. I like a man who can get the gist of things.” The man stared at Archer and then looked at Barrett. “I see that you have a flair for theatrics, Barrett. His resemblance to Ward is uncanny.”
Barrett smiled and nodded. “Just a reminder that I was once very useful and can continue to be so.”
The man pushed aside his tea, then interlaced his fingers.
“So, Captain Barrett . . . I was expecting you months ago.”
“Aye, you have my apologies, Mr. Tseng, but the sea—she makes her own schedules.”
Tseng returned the bows of two silk-robed men, Hongs, or members of the imperial court. “This is true, Captain, but the sea is subservient to the heavens . . . and the Emperor is ruler of the heavens. He sets all schedules.”
“Yet, despite our tardiness, here you sit.”
Tseng nodded. “I apologize for the secrecy, Captain Barrett.”
“No need. I am sure you have reason to be cautious.”
“Indeed. There is a disagreement within the imperial government.”
“A common problem, I’m sure,” said Barrett.
Tseng smiled. “We are currently disagreeing about how to agree. Everyone agrees that we need to enhance our arsenal. This was made clear after our losses to the West and suppression of the rebel uprising. However, there is a faction that wants to manufacture these modern weapons here. There are people within the government that believe we should supply our arsenals domestically—build huge plants where guns are made—but we do not have the necessary industrial resources. However, our foreign friends in the West are more than willing to help us build these things—but how do we pay for it?”
“You could always borrow the money from your new friends in the West,” said Barrett. “And then they will charge you fees—so many fees—for licensing the patents on their weapons.”
“I do agree with them to an extent, but at this moment, it does not seem expedient. It just creates another profligate bureaucracy through which an elite few can line their pockets.”
Barrett and Tseng stared at each other while the statement hung in silence. They both laughed.
“It is not such a bad idea, but building takes time. Buying is much faster.”
“The same thing is happening to the Turks,” said Barrett.
“Yes, but I do not think the arrangement will end well for the Turks—even worse for us. The French are helping us build ships, the British are helping us with manufacturing, and the Americans are teaching us how to properly despise the British and French.”
Barrett smiled.
“These countries were our enemies in war. Now we should trust them to help us make weapons for our own defense?”
“War is between enemies,” said Barrett. “But peace is between friends you can’t trust.”
Tseng smiled. “Can I trust you, Captain Barrett?”
“You can trust me to trust myself.”
“I do not know what that means. Our prior meeting was based on the understanding that you had something that I wanted. Since you are brave enough to show your face here—after I suffered many embarrassments for vouching for you—you must have something special. Your employer wrote to me that if you did not arrive in Shanghai within a reasonable timeframe, I should expect that you were lost at sea or had absconded with the cargo. I should inform you that he suspects the latter. Now it is many months later, and here we are.”
Jupiter and Archer shared a look over the long silenc
e.
Mr. Tseng sipped his tea. “Your turn, Captain Barrett.”
“I absconded with nothing. The ship was met with a few of the many hazards of sailing.”
“I have not come here to question your honor, Captain. I am here to question your value.”
“The ship . . . and its cargo are no more. However, in the past months, I acquired something that will be profitable for the both of us.”
Mr. Tseng arched an eyebrow.
“Remingtons.”
“And what of your former employer?”
“I am not concerned about my former employer. Although it can’t match the lost profits, I’m sure the insurance has already reimbursed him for whatever he lied about being in the cargo.”
Mr. Tseng smiled. “I studied in your country. Yale. I learned a great deal there. I like you Americans. So much more industrious than the British. You always find a way to come out ahead. But you could also learn a great deal from China. Time is of the essence. We still have enemies amongst our own people. They will not wait for the completion of a weapons factory to strike again. I am inclined to continue to do business with the gun traders—even if they do continue to charge exorbitant prices.” Tseng smiled. “However, there are some very powerful people who are against this à la carte approach. It seems that the both of us have made some very dangerous enemies. I appreciate you coming all this way, Barrett. But I have already made my purchases.”
“Why do you mean? Purchased from who?”
“From your employer, Captain Barrett.”
Barrett leaned back in his chair. “When?”
“I’d say close to a month ago.”
“From my employer?”
“Yes, and everything was in order.”
Barrett’s mind went to work. Was he lying? Was some other cargo sent to Shanghai in the event that he failed?
“Forgive me, Barrett, but I find it very curious that you would have a shipment so close to the previous one. I may be interested in what you have to offer, but I feel compelled to warn you that your employer is very angry with you.”
“How angry?”
“He has placed a bounty on your head—a very enticing bounty. Dead or alive, I might add.”
“How enticing?”
“Enough that you should leave Shanghai soon. It is high tide and the sharks are close to the shore. While I sympathize with your situation, doing any formal business with you might alienate your employer—or should I say former employer.”
• • •
They left the tavern and discussed what they had learned from Tseng as they walked along the Bund. “How could a replacement shipment arrive so quickly?” asked Jupiter. “Unless he anticipated your failure because there were no weapons on board the Intono.”
“There must have been,” said Archer. “He just sent two shipments.”
“Possibly,” said Barrett. “Jupiter could be right. Maybe one or two crates were real, but he knew I wouldn’t check every one of them. Why would I? He knew I would never suspect him of stealing from me.”
“But what about Singleton?” asked Archer. “Did he know?”
“No,” said Jupiter before Barrett could answer. “His job was to kill Barrett in either scenario. If we ever did arrive in Shanghai and those empty crates were unloaded, it would have been an embarrassment. Singleton would have claimed ignorance.”
“And he would have killed me on the spot,” Barrett added. “Clinkscales had already laid seeds of doubt with Tseng before I had even set sail. I guess there was no accounting for being lost at sea. Yes, either way I was a dead man.”
Jupiter nudged him. “You’re not dead yet, so we’d best get moving. We’re being watched.”
58
Liberia
Sebastian returned with the shrub branches; white-pink flowers and gray bark, shoots of an herb with long, looping tendrils, and small green berries. The shaman that returned with Sebastian prepared the herbs in a concoction. He said words in his native language that the Americans did not understand, and made Jacob sip the preparation. He returned two more times and delivered a similar dose. The boy seemed to improve. Sebastian had bartered for the concoction by impressing him with one of his illusions—essentially trading one magic trick for another.
The shaman’s presence irritated the hospital staff. “What is he doing here?” asked the doctor as he watched a half-naked native force-feed his patient.
The shaman again said words to the doctor that no one understood, though the way he looked at the doctor was translation enough. He finished administering the remaining liquid to Jacob, gathered his things, and left.
“Why did you bring him in here?” asked the doctor.
Sebastian walked over to him. “To save this boy’s life, which you seemed determined to fail at.”
“Ludicrous. He is improving, is he not? And you attribute that to the work of a witch doctor and not science. That charlatan gathers some weeds from the brush, puts them together, and you think that is what saved him? Not my treating him for the ten days prior to that savage’s arrival?”
“Doctor, this was no magic trick. There is not a trick that has fooled me—not one that I haven’t seen through—in my life. You or the shaman—it doesn’t matter. The boy is alive.”
• • •
Sonya held Jacob and swayed, just as she did when he was a baby. Just as she did the baby girl born a year before Jacob. She had rocked that baby slowly too. Its beauty in lifelessness a haunting, macabre combination. There was no explanation for what had happened. The baby was there and then it wasn’t. Those things happened all the time, especially on a plantation. “We all shall return to our maker,” Clara, the old slave woman, had said. “It’s up to him how soon.” But that did not matter to Sonya; there was too much anger in her heart for sadness. She hated everything—the way people said mornin’, hated the way other slaves held on to their hope and optimism, but most of all she hated Jupiter. He had troubles of his own, but his portion of this burden he’d left with her to carry. When he returned—if he returned—he’d be considered a hero in spite of his abandonment. But what about her, what would she be considered? In her anger, everyone seemed happy, until the day she found someone just as angry as her—and just as angry at the same person. Colonel Smith hated Jupiter just as much as she did.
• • •
“How did you know about those herbs?”
He wanted to say that a magician never reveals his secrets, but it was obvious she was not in the mood for levity. “It reminded me of a birch flower. I saw one of the natives peddling it when we arrived. We used it on the battlefield for fever and dysentery. During the war, medicine was scarce. We often had to find relief in whatever treatment nature provided.”
“You were a doctor?”
“Something like one, but not really. I was just curious and determined enough to survive.”
“You never said you were in the war.”
“Sebastian the Magnificent wasn’t—he is far too clever to be lured into such a deadly illusion. It takes a great deal of skill to trick a man into fighting in another man’s war. A man named Shadrach fought in that war, but Shadrach the Magnificent doesn’t have the necessary elegance.”
“Shadrach the Magnificent is not so bad. It just depends on presentation. I can’t thank you enough for saving Jacob.”
He thought about the money he took from her on the Orpheus. He told himself that it was a loan, that one day he’d find a way to pay her back, but a part of him wanted her to suffer. He had cast a spell too strong. He was more powerful than he knew. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “I made a promise to you on that ship and I intend to keep it.”
59
Shanghai
“We’re being followed,” said Jupiter.
“In Shanghai it always seems as though you’re being followed
,” said Barrett.
They hustled down the docks, forcing their way through the dense crowds. There were three men dressed in black—like the men that had rescued them from Yerby’s cave. They moved in the opposite direction of the crowd, stopped by everyone they ran into. People screamed at them belligerently.
“We should separate and meet later at Wu’s compound.”
• • •
Archer ran, never looking to see if the men were close. He ducked into alleys, not knowing if they were passageways to freedom or capture. He passed so many sights that would have stopped the wives of businessmen and tourists in their tracks. Curious and exotic things to foreign eyes. Places that to the foreign merchants represented opportunity, but he noticed none of it. He ran until he couldn’t. He looked behind himself expecting one of them to be close. No one was there.
He slipped through a red door and into a dimly lit room with men hunched over tables. He smelled the air and the place revealed its purpose.
“Back so soon?” Did he know this woman? He felt he had seen her in a dream. She touched his forehead, damp with sweat, her fingertips traced the side of his face, his neck, his chest—it heaved under her hand. His racing heart quickened.
“What is your name?”
She stared at him, then smiled. “It is Mei. Of course, I never told you. Last night, only your name mattered. Why are you in such a hurry? Did you run all this way to see me?”
• • •
A haze of smoke over her porcelain body, a flash of red nails as she handed him the pipe, a bed so soft he felt buffeted by a cloud. No ships, no guns, no fathers, and no brothers, just a dreamscape where everything and everyone was a cloud.
What are his plans? he heard a voice ask.
He did not know how to answer.
What are his plans? the voice asked again. Never mind that, thought Archer. Clouds have no plans. They go where the wind takes them. And he was now, after all, a cloud.
“What are Barrett’s plans?”
Archer felt like he was falling, the details of his environment painted in with frenzied brushstrokes. He felt pain in his knees, his shoulders, and his throat. He felt the hand release his neck. “I don’t know,” he heard himself say.
The Abduction of Smith and Smith Page 21
