by L G Rollins
“Ever since the night of your art . . . “—the ghost waved a hand in small circles, as though searching for the right word— “. . . display, Leng dashi has had you followed.”
“What?” Jasper’s foot hit the floor with a loud thud and he stood fully once more. “He’s been keeping tabs on me?” He should have expected as much. Still, it rankled. Not to mention made him nervous. If the ambassador had been having him followed, he now knew all about Tressa and Brox as well as Mrs. Zhi and Ju. Jasper let out a long string of curses.
Mr. Zhi waited patiently for Jasper to finish, which did take several minutes, before continuing. “It was foolish to ever hope that your sister and her husband would remain unknown to Leng dashi.”
Jasper scowled at the ghost’s ability to predict where his trail of thoughts had led. “So, you’re wanting me to help keep your wife safe?”
“Yes, but more than that, too. I’m here to propose we work together to end Leng dashi once and for all.”
“To keep your family and mine safe.”
Mr. Zhi bowed. “It is the only way.”
Jasper would do anything to keep Tressa and Brox safe. He already suspected he was growing a soft spot for Mrs. Zhi, too. But the one image that stayed with him the longest was of Ju. Jasper felt a determined, unyielding need to defend her, as well.
Jasper grabbed the strip of cloth off his bedside table and tied his hair back. Though he had protested to Tressa and Brox only hours earlier that he was content to wait and see what Leng would do next, that was before he knew the man would be going after Mrs. Zhi and Ju.
That Jasper could not sit back and wait for.
It was time to get to work.
“Count me in.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jasper paused in his doorway and pretended to fiddle with his gloves. Though his eyes stayed forward, focused on his hands, he searched his peripheral vision for any movement. Mr. Zhi had said Ambassador Leng had a man tailing Jasper at all times.
Mr. Zhi had admitted to being unsure where they should begin, so Jasper chose to go with the first thing that had come to mind.
Jasper needed to put a face to his tail and then he needed to learn more about what the ambassador wanted from Doctor Hopkins and why. Jasper didn’t like the feeling of going up against a powerful man who knew everything about him, and whom Jasper knew nothing about in return. Until he and Mr. Zhi could ascertain what Ambassador Leng wanted and why, they would be fighting blind.
Jasper securely locked the door behind him. Not that he believed a lock was going to keep anyone out of his house—home had felt like a train depot as of late with all the unwanted visitors. He still felt better about having the new lock installed. Having a lock meant if someone wanted to enter while he was away, they’d have to force it and that would leave physical evidence.
He stepped down onto the sidewalk and turned right. It was a crisp morning and Jasper smiled and acted as though he was enjoying the mid-morning air. In truth, he looked over his shoulder more than once, not to admire the birds, but to see if he could catch sight of the man tailing him.
Blast. Whoever Ambassador Leng had sent to do the job was well experienced. Jasper couldn’t see hide nor hair of whomever it was. Still, Jasper kept his eyes peeled as he meandered through London and toward Wei shu’s dance school.
Jasper had questioned Zhi’s insistence that, first thing this morning, Jasper return to the dance school, find his wife, and hire her. Wouldn’t Jasper’s continued association with Mrs. Zhi only put her in the way of danger? He still felt unsure. But Mr. Zhi was confident that Leng already knew all he needed to about Mrs. Zhi and hiring his wife would allow Jasper to keep a closer watch on her.
It would also allow Jasper the opportunity to question Mrs. Zhi without raising suspicion at their sudden acquaintance. Mr. Zhi had been frustratingly button-lipped about his supposed murder and why Ambassador Zhi wanted a sweet old woman dead.
Well, if the ghost wasn’t going to tell him, then Jasper would have to find out himself.
It took Jasper little more than an hour to walk to the dance school. Most of the other stores lining the street were closed this time of the morning, but even with shop doors shut and window curtains pulled low, Jasper slowed his step.
Each shop was so different than those he’d seen other places in town. The lettering depicting the names were not but blocked symbols, certainly not English. Gold and red and brilliant pink lined windows and door frames. In a couple of windows, the curtains hadn’t been completely draped and Jasper was able to make out the corner of a golden statue or delicate silk fabric, embroidered most painstakingly with small flowers and birds.
He certainly would have to return once all the shops were open so that he could meander through them. And to think, all this wonder had been here all along and he’d somehow missed it.
Jasper paused in front of what he assumed to be a dress shop—he couldn’t exactly read the shop’s name nor could he see much inside, but it felt like a dress shop—and he made to cross the street toward the dance school.
A thickly built man some paces down the road began to cross as well. Jasper’s hands clenched near his sides; he’d seen that man over half an hour ago, as he passed Rayden’s. He hadn’t thought much of the man at the time. He’d appeared to be just another passerby. But to see him again here? The stocky man could only be Jasper’s tail.
Jasper kept his step even; not rushing forward, not hanging back. Mr. Zhi may have been convinced Ambassador Leng knew all there was to know about his wife, but Jasper wasn’t thrilled with the idea of leading one of Leng’s men straight to her. Jasper angled his step slightly to the right.
He needed to draw the man out a bit. He needed to see the man’s face at the very least. Arriving on the other side of the road, Jasper continued down, passing the dance school as though that had never been his destination at all.
He could duck down an alley between the shops and then jump the tail. Though Jasper had never considered pugilism as a career, his education growing up had certainly included many fistfights and, being quite broad himself, he knew how to take an opponent down.
But what good would that do? Ambassador Leng would only send more men, or perhaps better-hidden men, to tail Jasper. It wasn’t as though if Jasper sent this tail back bloodied and bruised the ambassador was going to stop.
Jasper walked past the school and past the building after it. He studied each shop as he had before crossing the street, though this time he dismissed the streaks of gold and red that caught his eye and remained focused on his unwanted tail.
It would take some creativity to draw the man out, to force him to get close enough to Jasper that he could see the man’s face. Jasper moved up to the fourth shop down from the dance school—far enough away that Jasper wouldn’t easily be connected with the school, but not so far away that his crossing the street when he did wouldn’t seem out of place.
Jasper looked up at the shop. He couldn’t read the name of this one either. Judging by the few baubles and trinkets he could see from underneath the drawn curtain, Jasper guessed it was a haberdashery.
What was his plan? Lud, making plans had never been Jasper’s forte. He mostly went with his gut and trusted things to come together eventually.
Jasper sighed and then began feeling around in his pockets, giving his pause down the street the appearance of having a purpose. What he needed most was to figure out how the ambassador was operating. Who was working for him? How did he go about learning what he needed to know so that he could intimidate others into doing his dirty work?
That was it. He needed to make his tail think he’d disappeared. Then Jasper could turn the tables and follow the tail back to wherever he operated from. With any luck, he’d find something to use as leverage there.
Jasper pulled out a folded piece of paper. He knew it had been there. The other night he’d been out walking and had had an idea strike him for a figure. He couldn’t decide at the time if it w
ould be stronger cast as a statue or painted on canvas. He’d jotted his mess of warring thoughts down, folded the paper, and shoved it in his pocket.
But, suppose the tail believed Jasper had been instructed to meet someone here at the haberdashery? Suppose he believed Jasper was in the middle of some clandestine rendezvous? That would be intriguing enough for a tail to draw dangerously near, wouldn’t it?
Jasper unfolded the scrap paper and pretended to be reading it. Then he glanced back up at what he believed to be the building’s address. Jasper tried the door. It was locked and wouldn’t open. Perfect. Jasper scowled slightly as though trying to puzzle out a problem; the tail would assume Jasper had agreed to meet someone here and couldn’t figure out why the door wasn’t unlocked.
It was the perfect, logical excuse to check down the alley for a side door. Jasper turned between two of the shops and did just that. Hopefully, his tail had been fooled by Jasper’s small performance and wouldn’t have his guard up.
The moment Jasper felt sure he was out of sight, he broke into a run. He got all the way to the back wall of the shop and then spotted a few old barrels and boxes. Jasper checked the first large barrel—nothing inside but a few grains of rice rolling around in the bottom.
It was a tight fit, but Jasper was able to squeeze himself down and inside. Pulling the round lid over his head, Jasper heard footsteps nearing the back of the shop. Jasper froze, the barrel lid not completely closed. A couple centimeters of sunlight still dropped through the barrel opening, creating a broken crescent of light against his knees and shoulder.
Jasper didn’t dare slide it the rest of the way closed—the tail may not think twice about a discarded barrel with the lid only mostly secured, but there was no way in sundry he’d miss a lid seeming to close itself.
The footfalls of Jasper’s tail moved one direction, paused, moved the opposite. Jasper pulled in slow, steady breaths. It didn’t seem his hiding location had been spotted. There were benefits to being of such a dark skin—he’d learned long ago how to meld into shadows and hide in dark corners.
The footsteps echoed from further away, down behind the row of shops. Jasper didn’t move. The first thing the tail would do is to search the area. Eventually, when he was certain Jasper had given him the slip, only then would the tail return to his superior. Jasper only needed to wait until that moment, slip out of the barrel, and tail his tail all the way back to the superior.
Knowing who his tail was would be nice; knowing more about the tail’s superior would be vastly better.
Jasper waited and waited. Blessedly, this part of London had yet to awaken and grow to be bustling. There wasn’t much to hear beyond the tail’s ever more frantic search for Jasper.
The searching—a mix of doors rattling and old crates grinding as they were shoved about on the cobblestone alley—stopped suddenly. Then came the sound of running; his tail was hurrying away. Had he finally decided to check in and inform his superior of Jasper’s disappearance? One could only hope.
Jasper stood, careful to keep a tight hold of the barrel lid. Letting it clamor to the ground might ruin everything. Setting it down, Jasper then stepped out of the barrel and hurried the direction he’d heard the tail’s footsteps receding.
Catching back up to the man would be the hardest part. Jasper ran, while also doing his best to keep his footfalls as silent as possible. It was a strange mix of pushing hard against the cobblestones to propel himself forward and landing lightly in his worn boots. He hit the ground with a deep thud. This was a trick he certainly hadn’t perfected. Jasper hadn’t ever tried to tail a tail before. He tried to focus more on landing noiselessly. But then he struggled to hear the other man’s footfalls as they disappeared in the morning air.
Blast it all. This was far harder than he’d assumed. Hang his own noise, if he didn’t catch back up to the tail it wouldn’t matter how hard his boots struck the pavement. Jasper glanced down each alley way as he passed.
Six shops down, he spotted the tail leaving the alley way for the main street out front and disappearing around a shop. Jasper bolted forward, ignoring the pound of his stride.
He peered around the front of the shop. More people filled the street now than when Jasper had come this way. Early morning stillness was quickly giving way to the bustle of the day. The tail moved fast, slipping between the unsuspecting and the uncaring crowd.
Jasper could only see the back of his head, but it was his tail. The build was right as was his stride. The man had straight black hair, cropped short. It was a simple style, not one that would stand out or draw attention. Made sense if the man was routinely employed as a tail. Had he come to England with Ambassador Leng? Wouldn’t that just be like such a man, to travel to a foreign land with all the essentials: clothing, fancy gifts, perhaps some important documents, and your own small team of spies and pugilists.
The tail stayed to large, busy streets. That was quite all right with Jasper, it only made the man easier to follow without being seen himself.
They neared a very opulent side of London. Even striving for focus, Jasper couldn’t ignore the overabundant differences between where they’d been and where they were now. First the shops changed, from small and decidedly not-English, to large and pompous. Then the shops melded away to long rows of town homes. They weren’t like the tightly squeezed together variety where Jasper lived. These each had grand stone edifices and more balconies than Jasper could count.
Jasper slowed. This was where the highest of the upper echelon lived. Gads, just walking through the area impressed on one the loftiness and grandeur of those who lived here. While it was most certainly a place Jasper didn’t ever see himself fitting in, it was exactly these sorts of people who were best poised to buy his work.
What would naturally appeal to such a lot? With their many carriages and with enough dresses to clothe a small town?
The tail glanced over his shoulder and Jasper ducked behind a tall front staircase before the man spotted him. Jasper cursed himself—he was working to keep his loved ones safe by learning more about the ambassador. He wasn’t there to let his mind wander toward his own art.
The tail turned and walked down between two opulent houses. Jasper hurried to the corner and peered down it carefully before following. The man stood at a side door—probably a servant’s entrance—and rapped. His skin tone was lighter than Jasper’s, but not the pale white many of those from China sported. The man glanced about himself and for the first time, Jasper saw his face.
No, he was not oriental, that much was clear. His slightly olive skin, full beard, and prominent nose gave him away as distinctly European. It made sense. Someone who looked like they belonged in London would be able to sneak about all the easier.
The servant door opened. Jasper strained but couldn’t see who was inside. The European tail slipped inside and the door shut.
Jasper kept behind the corner of the neighboring house. He couldn’t go slipping into a house like that, not without half a dozen servants seeing him. Though Jasper was quite good at slipping between shadows, his broad shoulders, nearly-black skin, and dreadlocks meant he did rather stand out in daylight.
That being said, at least now he could go see Mrs. Zhi without the ambassador knowing. Jasper pulled away and slipped back down the street the way he’d come. He may not be able to get inside without being seen, but Jasper had the sneaking suspicion that one particular ghost could.
***
“Hey Jasper, wanna go fishin’?”
“Not just now, Tom.” How was it the young boy always knew in which part of London he was at?
“I know a real keen spot.”
Jasper patted Tom on the back. “I’m sure you do, but I’ve got someone I need to speak with right now.”
Tom shrugged. “Ah, that’s all right.” He laughed. “I didn’t bring my pole anyhow.”
Didn’t bring his pole? “How did you expect to catch fish without a pole?”
Tom stuck his hands deeper
into his breeches’ pockets and grinned. “Don’t know. You always say not to worry too much about what will be. Just enjoy now.”
“That, I do.” Huh, he had no idea that Tom listened to him enough to know his view on worrying about tomorrow.
“Who you gonna see?”
“A woman. She offered to work as my cook-and-clean and I think I’m going to take her up on it.” He still had mixed feelings about hiring Mrs. Zhi, but his new ghostly acquaintance insisted. So, off he was to hire the woman.
He did agree with Mr. Zhi on one point—this would allow him to keep a closer eye on Mrs. Zhi.
“Is she good?” Tom asked, having to skip every other step to keep up with Jasper’s long stride.
“At what?”
“Cookin’ and cleanin’.”
Jasper’s mind went back to the few meals she’d made him previously. “Oh, yes. She’s very good.”
“Then I think you’re making the right decision,” Tom said, his voice dropping as though he were mimicking an adult.
Jasper laughed. “I’m glad to hear you concur.”
“So.” Tom’s words dragged out. “Can I come with you?”
“What? To see Mrs. Zhi?”
Tom nodded vigorously.
Why on earth would a little boy want to be part of a business discussion? But, if that’s how he wanted to spend his afternoon, Jasper wasn’t going to darken his day. Besides, it might be interesting to watch Tom see Chinatown for the first time.
“All right, then. Come along.”
They turned down the street Wei shu’s was on and Tom’s eyes widened. As they strolled past shops, Tom asked more questions than Jasper had ever heard come out of one mouth in so short a time. It seemed the boy was as in awe of the place as Jasper himself had been the first time he’d come. As it turned out, Jasper found he quite enjoyed showing the boy around and answering questions.
Jasper opened the door to the dance school and violin music floated out. He motioned Tom forward, feeling in a much better mood than he had in days.
