Ben Soul

by Richard George

swallowed, chewed and otherwise ingested and introduced into their metabolic processes. Noah himself granted honors to one or two pigeons in Union Square and a gray gull at Oyster Point. He often said they could handle more synthetic mescaline per ounce of body weight than he. There was only Noah’s word for the birds’ prowess. He was fond of his reputation, though, and unlikely to lie about such a thing.

  Noah regarded Shu a long moment before he replied, “What are you doing here Shu? I expected Beau; I didn’t expect you.”

  “We had a problem, Noah,” Beau said. Noah turned to focus on Beau.

  “Oh?” Noah seemed to be sobering up rapidly.

  “The Kuanyin you left with me has disappeared,” Shu answered. Noah glared at him a long moment. Inwardly Shu trembled. Noah’s eyes glittered cold and hard. Shu thought of a cobra’s glittering eyes, and the jeweled eyes of an idol in an old movie he once saw. Shu wished to look away from the glitter of Noah’s eyes, and yet he dared not, as if, by hypnotizing Noah with his eyes, he kept Noah from striking. Or had Noah hypnotized him?

  Noah broke the spell. He laughed, no great belly laugh, neither a ha-ha-ha, but a great giggling laugh, a profound silliness. Nervously Beau joined Noah’s giggle. Shu sat impassively, still shaken by Noah’s eyes.

  “I’m confused,” Shu said, “by your laughter, Noah.”

  Noah stifled his giggles long enough to wave his hand and gasp out, “I’ll explain in a minute,” and he giggled anew. Very swiftly, his giggles turned into sobs, and he buried his head in his hands and wept loudly for a couple of moments. Then he lifted his head and looked at Shu and Beau with tear-glittered eyes. He sucked in air and blew it out across the room. It swirled the stale smoke in the afternoon-gloomy room.

  “Excuse me,” Noah said. “I had to get that out of my system. What did you say about the Kuanyin?”

  “We lost it,” Beau said.

  “Where?” Noah snapped.

  “In our shop,” Shu said stiffly.

  “Damn!” Noah said, and stood up with a swing of his fists against the armchair as he did so. He put his chin in his hand and his other hand under the elbow to support his chin-cupping hand. He wrinkled his brow and hunched his shoulders.

  “Now I can think,” he said. Beau giggled, and Noah smiled.

  “What is to be done, Noah, about this Kuanyin?”

  “What do you mean, what is to be done?” Noah said.

  Shu said, “Last night you suggested that the Kuanyin you left in my safekeeping was an important bit of statuary. You commended it to my most careful safeguarding. I assumed it was important.”

  “It is,” Noah said, “and I’ll quit clowning around, I’m loaded, as you might have guessed. I got hold of some dynamite stuff this afternoon. Sorry if I’ve screwed you up.” He grinned.

  “That statue was a pawn for some goods I delivered to old Swami Fendabenda. It’s part of a matched set of three that he owns. It’s probably not worth much, that is, to anybody but him. You’ve got a lot of those things in your shop. Just take one and pass it off on him. He’ll never know the difference.”

  “He may,” Shu said. “He certainly would, if that one were a part of a set. That one was not cast; it was modeled by hand, I’m sure. Probably mission work from early in this century. It could have some value; I’d have to ask an expert.”

  Noah stared at Shu. “You’re bulling me,” he said, and grinned.

  “No,” Shu said, and Noah’s grin faded. “I’d guess that Fendabenda fellow has a treasure whose worth he doesn’t know. I’d also guess you won’t fool him with a replacement from my brother’s shelf. They’re all ceramic, not clay.”

  “Do you know where you lost the statue I gave you?” Noah asked, his eyes hard and round.

  “No,” Shu said. “My guess is that my brother sold it. To whom I do not know.”

  “Damn!” said, and struck his fists at the empty air beside his hips several times. “We’ll have to ask your brother about it,” he said.

  “That will cost us,” Shu said. “My brother seldom gives anything. He will want to know why I had the statue and why I hid it there, why you had it, and why you gave it to me to keep. My brother is accustomed to getting answers.”

  “I’ll tell him that I took it in pawn for some herbs. No problem.”

  “And he will immediately call Chief Inspector Pryor and inform him he had a dope dealer in his shop. He is narrow-minded about dope dealers.”

  “Can he be bought off?”

  “No. Our mother died in an opium den. Way has no sympathy for narcotics, not even nicotine and alcohol.”

  “Well, then, I’ll lie, and say it was pawn for a picture until someone can pay me for it.”

  “You can try that,” Shu said. “If he will let you in the shop, that is.”

  Enter the Sinister Fu I

  The door cracked open. A shoulder entered the room. It was a massive shoulder, although at no unusual height from the ground. The rest of a fat man with Occidental eyes followed the shoulder. A long string mustache drooped from the corners of his mouth. Red silk clothed him. Dragons, embroidered in gold and emerald thread, intertwined their tails. They had fierce eyes and great wings. In the corner of the cuff of the sleeve, a tiny damsel and man were embroidered. A tiny damsel and man embroidered on the cuffs were oblivious to the dragons as they bowed to each other. A black Mandarin cap embroidered with red and gold characters rode on the man’s head. He folded his arms above his broad stomach, inserting his hands into the sleeves of his robe, faced them, and bowed.

  “So sorry, please,” he said. “This most unworthy person leaned a moment against your honorable door to rest his unworthy self after climbing the stairs and his unworthy bulk put too great a strain on the hinges which gave way. So sorry, please.” He bowed again.

  Noah laughed. Beau giggled, took off his white colonel’s hat (which carried his white colonel’s wig with it) and made a sweeping bow. The strange fat person delicately elevated his right eyebrow.

  “Who are you,” Shu asked; there was an edge of anger in his voice that the obese intruder acknowledged with another wriggle of his left eyebrow. “You are not Chinese,” Shu said, “except on a Hollywood set.”

  “Call me Fu I,” the stranger said, and bowed again. “You are right that I am not Chinese by birth. I have, however, adopted China as my spiritual home, and sometimes I wear the dress of her history.” The man stood straight and looked at Shu, Noah, and Beau. Then he withdrew his right hand from his left sleeve and pointed a pistol at them. “Now. You were talking about a Kuanyin, which has disappeared, most unfortunately, from Wong Brothers. One of a matched set of three, I believe.”

  “What do you want with it,” Noah said.

  “What I want with it is no concern of yours, guttersnipe,” the pudgy pistol holder snapped, and clicked the safety off on his weapon.

  “Mr. Fu I,” Noah said, “we don’t know where the Kuanyin you want is. Shu’s brother sold it to somebody, and we don’t know who. We were just talking about it, wondering how to ask him.”

  “Where did your brother get it?” Fu I said. “He will tell me, I am sure.”

  “He will laugh at you, fat one, in that get-up, for all you call yourself Increasing Wealth.” The man in red grinned. Shu stopped the smile on his lips. The grin did not offer much comfort to him.

  “I chose the name hoping my bank account will continue expanding as my waist does,” Fu I said. “As for your brother,” he continued, “I have my persuader here,” and he waved his pistol, “and I think he’ll answer my questions carefully.”

  The man moved the muzzle of his weapon slowly so that it covered each of them in turn. “You will now proceed ahead of me down the stairs and into the street. We will walk, you three side by side, and I just behind. My pistol has an extraordinary range for one of its diminutive size, and I am willing to use it. My car is parked outside on Geary Street. You will walk
to my car. I will give you instructions when we reach my car. Do you understand?”

  Noah nodded, and grinned nervously. Shu nodded impassively. Beau moaned, and reached out behind him to get the half-cigarette from the ashtray. His hand encountered the drawer of the desk. Fu I’s attention was on Shu and Noah. Beau slid the drawer open silently and slowly. Fu looked at him and gestured with the gun.

  “All right, go now,” Fu said. Quickly Beau felt in the drawer behind him and moaned again. “What’s wrong with him?” Fu I said.

  “He’s not quite there,” Noah said, rolling his eyes and twirling his finger beside his temple. While Fu I was watching this performance, Beau’s fingers closed over the plastic bag with its leafy contents. Quickly he slipped it into his pocket. Noah would thank him later for bringing this. Noah hated dealing with things without his herb. And, if Noah didn’t want it, Beau knew that he would probably want some himself. They set out, the three men in front and the pseudo-Mandarin behind like a red bloat upon the stairs.

  They emerged onto the street and turned south. The three walked ahead of Fu I, Beau in the middle, and Shu on the left next to the street, Noah on the right next to the wall. They had their elbows linked. Only one person paid them any attention, though several people looked up at the waddling Fu I. As they turned onto Geary Street Noah began to sing, “We’re off to see the Wizard,” from The Wizard of Oz. This attracted no attention, though Shu