Old Scores--A Barker & Llewelyn Novel

by Will Thomas

  Ohara stood outside, his bowler in his flipperlike hands. He bowed. He was very obviously the fellow who had not only crashed through our skylight and fought Barker, but kicked me down the stairs. It still hurt.

  “What do you want?” I asked. I was not prepared to be friendly.

  “I wish to speak to you and Mr. Barker, sir,” he said and bowed again.

  “Why should I? You kicked me down a stairwell.”

  “I apologize. It was most regrettable.”

  “It is regrettable when someone treads on one’s foot. This is another matter entirely.”

  Just then Barker came along behind me, having come leisurely from upstairs. His face, as usual, was without expression. He was wearing an Asian dressing gown over his waistcoat.

  “Mr. Ohara,” he said.

  Ohara bowed.

  “What does he want?” he asked.

  “To speak to us.”

  “Does he have a weapon?”

  “He is a weapon.”

  Barker turned his head. Mac was in the doorway of his butler’s pantry, holding his sawn-down shotgun. Ohara probably still carried buckshot from it.

  “Let the fellow in,” my employer announced. “Put him in the library.”

  I waved him in with the pistol and led him down the hall. Meanwhile, Barker stepped out the front door and looked about, in case there were more men in the bushes. Outside the back door, Harm was barking and scratching, informing us that there was an intruder in the house, as if we could not work that out for ourselves. I ushered Ohara into the library and offered him a seat. But not in my chair.

  “Is that milk?” he asked.

  “Yes. Do you want a glass?”

  “No, thank you. Goat milk?”

  “Cow milk.”

  He shook his head. “You English eat the strangest things.”

  Barker came in and looked at each of us as if we were conspiring. He gave a nod toward my hand and I set the pistol down on the table by my glass.

  “What can we do for you, Mr. Ohara?” Barker asked.

  He reached into his bowler and removed a thin needle perhaps four inches long, attached to a red puffball, either fur or feathers. Barker reached for it.

  “Careful! It is poisoned!”

  “I am familiar with darts,” the Guv rumbled. “Whom do you believe wishes you harm?”

  “The other bodyguards. They were each chosen by the general, personally.”

  Cyrus Barker stood and went to the fireplace, resting an elbow on the mantel. The grate had been cleaned out for the summer and a spray of dried flowers set inside it.

  “But Ambassador Toda asked for you personally?”

  “He did.”

  “Did you know him before you were asked?”

  The big man hesitated, debating with himself. He finally decided, slumping his shoulders. Harm was still barking on the other side of the door. For once, I agreed with him. He is a good judge of character.

  Ohara reached up and removed his tie pin. He unscrewed the shaft and brought it up to his mouth. Blowing into one end he then retrieved a slip of paper from the other, no more than an inch and a half square. He uncurled it and gave it to Barker. I could see Asian lettering in red and black and some sort of symbol.

  “The Kempeitai,” Barker growled, as if he had expected it.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Secret police, military police. May I assume you are here to watch the delegations’ movements?”

  “I am.”

  “Then you failed. The ambassador is dead.”

  “Hai,” he replied. His head sagged, and he turned the brim of his hat in his hands.

  “Tell me about that.”

  “There was a meeting that night. I guarded the door. The ambassador was upstairs with his foot up. He had gout. I heard a popping sound and ran upstairs. He was dead. I assume one of the bodyguards must have killed him.”

  “Which one?” Barker asked.

  “Kito, I would think. He loves pistols. The others have their own specialties. However, any one of them could have pulled the trigger. It is not difficult and requires no skill. It is a coward’s weapon.”

  “Then I suppose you heard I was outside and thought that I had done it,” the Guv said.

  “Yes, sir. In my ignorance I came here and attacked you both. I apologize. I was mad with grief.”

  “You cared for Mr. Toda?”

  “No, not particularly. He was a great man, but I did not really know him. I was ordered to protect the ambassador. No, I had failed in my duties. I had—I have disgraced the Kempeitai.”

  “And now you fear you will be assassinated.”

  Ohara frowned. “I fear nothing, sir, save the dereliction of my duty. But my life is in danger.”

  Barker twirled the dart in his thick fingers.

  “Are any of the guards trained as assassins?”

  “None that I know of, Mr. Barker. But then, they each required some skill to be chosen by the general over the others. Not just anyone can become an imperial guard.”

  “Nor a member of the Kempeitai. Your methods are greatly feared in Japan, even by the military.”

  “We are ruthless, sir,” he admitted. “It is necessary.”

  “You were charged by your superiors to watch someone. Who was it?”

  “The general.”

  “For what crime?”

  “Treason, sir. I believe he hopes to become prime minister and then overthrow the Meiji government, to start a new shogunate. He is supported by some powerful manufacturers that, a generation ago, were samurai families.”

  “Have you collected much evidence so far?”

  “No, sir. General Mononobe is shrewd and does not commit his plan to paper.”

  Barker handed the scrap of paper back to Ohara and sat down.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I—I need a place to stay.”

  “Get a hotel room,” I said.

  “Why would you trust me?” Barker asked.

  “Because you concern the general, sir. Very much. You are not a member of the government. You are a private citizen. A detective.”

  “Private enquiry agent,” I corrected. “But we’re currently working for the general.”

  “He’s trying to keep you occupied.”

  “I know that,” Barker said. “Are you working alone?”

  “I am.”

  “Why? There should be at least three of you.”

  “The general suspects my identity. He only allowed me to come because Ambassador Toda insisted. Had there been three of us, he would have known he was being watched.”

  Barker moved forward and stood over Ohara. “Why should I trust you? How do I know you don’t work for Mononobe, and are another distraction?”

  “The paper—”

  “Could be a forgery.”

  “My attack upon you—”

  “Could have succeeded. What then?”

  “I—I don’t know why you should trust me,” he said, ducking his head.

  “Mac!”

  I crossed my arms and tried to look resolute in case Ohara tried to cut up rough. Mac glided in a moment later.

  “Sir?”

  “Put this gentleman in the guest room. Oh, and double locks on the doors tonight. You and Thomas can guard in shifts. Work it out as you wish.”

  “Very good, sir.” He looked at our guest. “If you will come this way, please.”

  Mac led him out into the hall. The man’s bulk barely cleared the doorway.

  “Thomas,” the Guv said, “do you have something to say?”

  “Oh, no, sir. It’s not for me to say. Obviously, you trust him, since he has proven you have no reason to trust him.”

  “Precisely. Had he been dishonest he’d have invented a reason. And remember, he came to us first. He trusted us first.”

  “Do you expect an attack tonight?”

  “Perhaps. Ohara is the sort of fellow whom people notice. Let us hope he arrived by h
ansom. I would suggest you sleep on the sofa in the front room. Put Harm out all night. He’s an excellent watch dog. I doubt they will come tonight, since the general is coming here tomorrow morning to play Go. More likely, he’ll find some way to search the rooms then. However, if we are caught unawares, Ohara’s life could be forfeited. And ours with it.”

  “I blame the Americans,” I said.

  Barker’s mustache curled just a fraction. “I’m sure there is enough blame for everyone, but why precisely the Americans?”

  “If Perry hadn’t steamed into Edo harbor forty years ago and frightened the hell out of them, they wouldn’t be here now, trying to become a world power. It would have been better for everyone if they had been left in peaceful isolation.”

  “You’ve been studying, I see.”

  “Mr. Grant from the British Library lent me a book or two.”

  “I’m glad you are using your time wisely.”

  “You really think Ohara can be trusted?”

  “One thing to admire about the Japanese is their self-sufficiency. He’d have choked on his own tongue rather than ask for help from a stranger. An Englishman, especially.”

  “Scotsman,” I corrected.

  “Even worse,” he said. “You must work out your shifts with Mac and get to bed. The sooner you start, the more sleep you’ll get.”

  “And what will you do?”

  “I’ll make some plans for the morning. Oh, and one more thing.”

  “What’s that, sir?”

  “You cannot light a lamp overnight.”

  “Not even enough to read by?”

  “If they see you awake, they’ll know you are guarding the house.”

  I sighed. Not even a book to keep me company.

  “’Night, sir.”

  “Have a good evening, Thomas.”

  He turned and left the room. Harm was still barking in the yard.

  “Marvelous,” I said, to no one in particular.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  My relationship with Bok Fu Ying was complicated. When I had first met her five years before, I had been intrigued with her, but Barker told me in no uncertain terms that he did not want me to be her suitor, even before the idea had actually occurred to me. Also, I was not yet certain that I was willing to consider a bride who would forever be outside of society, beautiful though she was. The unanswered question was whether she had foreseen my interest, as women tend to do, and how she felt about it.

  It is not my intent herein to discuss my relationships. It would be jarring to introduce them in the middle of an account of the first embassy of Japan and I would not do so, save that two unrelated elements suddenly became related in a way I could not have foreseen. The first element was Bok Fu Ying herself. The second was Rebecca Cowan, to whom I was affianced. I had not foreseen that these two would meet. It was never my wish, but Fate does not always take what I prefer into consideration.

  It was Saturday and Barker had told me he had nothing particular for me to do, knowing this was the time I visited Rebecca every week whenever possible. At one time we had discussed the difficulties of being both a husband and a private enquiry agent, but he hadn’t discussed it lately, probably because it would sound hypocritical. He was very near an understanding with Mrs. Philippa Ashleigh, the woman whom he had followed here from China years before.

  I was done with work, and out the door as soon as possible, walking toward Trafalgar Square to find a hansom cab willing to take me to the City. As I was walking I noticed a young woman coming from the other direction in a maroon dress and heavy veil. To be truthful, I didn’t give her a second thought until her elbow snagged mine and we were both arrested in our movement.

  Lifting my top hat, I said, “Excuse me, miss.”

  She laughed. “You know perfectly well I am no miss now, Thomas.”

  “Fu Ying?”

  She pulled back her veil. “Some enquiry agent you are.”

  “Are you looking for Mr. Barker?” I asked.

  “No, I’m not,” she said.

  “I’m on my way to an appointment.”

  “I know, Thomas. I’m going with you. As your elder sister. I declare the right to examine anyone interested in joining the family.”

  Were we in our antagonistics school, she would have the right to call herself my elder sister. The problem was she saw that relationship as no different from the rest of the world.

  “I’m perfectly capable of choosing my own bride.”

  “Mrs. Ashleigh sent me. I’ve been deputized. Something must be wrong with her if you won’t bring her to meet us.”

  “There is nothing wrong with her. She’s perfect.”

  “I’ll decide that for myself, thank you.”

  “You’re not coming with me.”

  “Then you’re not going. If I start a fight I promise it will be you who is arrested. You’re well acquainted with jail cells.”

  “Mrs. Ashleigh is a fine and noble woman, but she has no right—”

  “Oh, she’s not the only one. Mac sent me. And Etienne, and Jeremy Jenkins, and Ho.”

  “Don’t tell me Ho gives a damn if I live or die.”

  “If you are preoccupied you might not be there when Sir needs you.”

  “It’s not you we are hiding from. It is Mrs. Cowan’s relations. Some of them don’t approve of me.”

  “What? Someone does not approve of you? Then they do not approve of me. What are their addresses? I will answer for you.”

  “I’m not trying to see them beaten, I merely wish them to approve of me. Rebecca—Mrs. Cowan’s late husband was a Jewish politician famed throughout the East End. Beside him, I don’t amount to much.”

  “You are young, Thomas. We all expect great things from you.”

  “Anyway, you aren’t expected.”

  “Fine. I’ll wait in the drawing room until you leave. I would rather speak to her alone, anyway.”

  “Really, you can’t do that!”

  “I can. Do I have to summon a policeman?”

  “No, don’t bother.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “You look stunning. It would be better if you had chin whiskers or baggy eyes.”

  She smiled. Every girl likes to hear a genuine compliment, even if it is not intended.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you. Now, will you summon a cab, or do you intend for us to walk?”

  Soon we were in a cab heading from Whitehall on the way to the City. My fiancée lived in Chamomile Street, hard by the synagogue.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said.

  “So, tell me,” Fu Ying went on, ignoring the remark. “Does your family know? Have you informed your mother?”

  “Not yet. We’re estranged. I was going to tell her.”

  “When? Afterward?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Thomas, you cannot keep your life divided into so many compartments, like an express train.”

  “I prefer it that way. It’s simpler.”

  We arrived in Chamomile Street and were shown into Rebecca’s house by the maid, who was slightly disturbed that there were two guests when one was expected. There was a small flutter of activity before Rebecca came downstairs to see what the fuss was all about. She raised a brow slightly when she saw that I was not alone, but her manners are impeccable.

  “Mrs. Cowan,” I said, “allow me to present Mrs. K’ing. She is the former ward of my employer. Mrs. K’ing, Mrs. Cowan.”

  Fu Ying then lifted her veil before accepting the hand Rebecca offered. I’ll say this for Rebecca: she did not hesitate or flinch or do what other hostesses in London might have done when finding an Oriental woman in their home unexpectedly. She merely smiled.

  “Welcome! I’m so pleased to meet you,” she said. “Tea? I’m afraid it’s probably not up to your standards.”

  I should have known better than to worry. Rebecca is a master at putting people at their ease. She led us into the drawing room and off
ered us a seat.

  “I’m afraid I have not had the pleasure to meet Mr. Barker yet,” she said. “I’ve only seen him at a distance. He seemed very forceful.”

  “He can seem that way at times,” Fu Ying replied. “But inside, he is very gentle. He purchased a house for me in Limehouse, in Three Colt Lane, and would not stop until it was full of the most beautiful furnishings. Most men would not care about such things.”

  “Thomas called you Mrs. K’ing. Have you married?”

  “I have. My husband is a powerful political force in the East End. He also runs an establishment called the Inn of Double Happiness.”

  “Yes, I know the name well. My brother visits there often. So do many of his friends.”

  I wondered if Rebecca knew that on Friday nights, the establishment rivaled the synagogue for the number of Jews in it.

  “How did you meet Thomas?” Fu Ying asked.

  “He came to our house as a Shabbos goy, a Gentile who lights the fires in the house during the Sabbath. We are not permitted to work then, you see. I didn’t know until later that Mr. Barker had sent him to investigate my father. I just knew within about two minutes I wanted to marry him.”

  Fu Ying looked up from the dainty cup in her hand. “Yet you married someone else.”

  “Yes.”

  Both were too formal to ask why, but it was implied. I was watching some sort of subtle jousting.

  “My parents did not approve of Thomas, you see, and anyway, he did not ask.”

  Both pairs of eyes turned to me. I was suddenly under the microscope.

  “I understood that her mother refused to allow me to see her and forbade the marriage,” I said in my own defense. “Also, Barker told me that enquiry agents do not necessarily make good husbands, our work being what it is.”

  “Did you not care for her that you didn’t pursue her?” Fu Ying asked with a tone of disapproval.

  “I did!” I said. “Very much. But I didn’t know how she felt.”

  The two women smiled at each other.

  “Mrs. Cowan, I apologize for the thickheadedness of my brother.”

  “Call me Rebecca, please.”

  “Fu Ying.”

  They had finally come to an understanding. They were united against me.