by Will Thomas
“You have no right to sack one of my staff!” he shouted.
“That is correct. I am a guest here, like the embassy, and have nothing to do with the running of this establishment. I would suggest you give the young and brave fellow the rest of the night off, and possibly a bonus. I shall pay it, if you wish.”
“I will pay it! As if I could not pay my own staff!”
“We shall get back to our table. I should point out that your waiters congregating in the back of the room means they aren’t listening in on the conversations, which is the real purpose of this party.”
Ho slapped his forehead and raked his hand down his face. Then he marched out of the kitchen.
“Come, lad,” my employer said. “I hope there is still some fugu left.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ho kept them for as long as he could, but there is just so much food a human body can digest. Mononobe and his guards rose and bowed and made to leave. Barker offered more sake, more plum wine, and every type of sweetmeat he could conceive. It was all to no avail. They bowed and walked to the door, and then they were gone.
The waiters gathered around Ho then, and a hurried conversation took place. The restauranteur burst out into the foulest Chinese he could think of, and for once I was very glad to only know a few words of Cantonese.
“Nothing!” he bawled, falling into a chair. He was glossy with perspiration and his shirt was wringing wet. “My waiters discovered nothing. Anytime we neared the general or his men, they shut their lips tight. Even your Foreign Office friend said nothing.”
Barker was not as temperamental as Ho. He looked as if he were taking the loss philosophically.
“Do you realize,” Ho went on, “how much money I put into this dinner? It cost a fortune! I’m going to have to sell this restaurant and move back to China!”
I looked over at the waiters, in their black trousers and white jackets. They were completely dispirited. Most had removed their brimless cloth caps, the picture of abject failure.
“You are being melodramatic, Ho,” Barker said. “You’re richer than any man in Limehouse, Mr. K’ing included. Send the bill to me. I’ll pay it.”
Abruptly, Ho did an about-face. It was the second remark about Ho’s fortune. “I can pay it. Don’t think I can’t. I just cannot believe I humbled myself in front of those Japanese demons for not a single fact.”
“Henry!” Barker called out.
I looked across the room. In a far corner, an old man lay with his head on the table. The disreputable hat he wore did not conceal his shaggy white hair or his identity. It was Henry Cathcart. He raised his head a little at hearing his name.
“Yes, Push?” he asked.
“How was your meal?”
“Excellent, sir. I like a bit of Chinese now and again, washed down with plum wine.”
“Did you hear anything of interest?”
“’Course I did, sir. I always give good service, don’t I?”
“What did you hear, then?”
“The English cove with the yellow mustache was trying to convince the Japanese general not to trust Mr. K’ing,” Cathcart said.
“‘He’ll pat you on the chest today and stab you in the back tomorrow,’ he says. ‘We’ve got the steamships to move or escort them.’
“The general, he shushed him up, ’cause the waiter was coming round behind him. They ate the food that was served. English said the food is all cabbage and catgut, but the general says it’s the best he’s had since he left Tokyo.”
I looked at Barker. “English” had to mean Campbell-Ffinch. Ho gave no response, having received an insult and a compliment at the same time. He merely sat and glowered.
“Continue, Mr. Cathcart,” Barker prompted.
“The waiter went away with a sour look on his face. English said: ‘You shouldn’t trust the Chinese. Their motives are counter to yours.’
“‘Agreed,’ the general said. ‘But then, we never planned to pay K’ing, anyway. A report to the Qing government that he is allied with the triads, at just the right moment, should settle the matter.’
“‘We could get goods to you much faster,’ English says.
“‘Best for you if England’s name never comes up,’ the general says.”
The Sponge stopped to pour himself a glass from a nearly empty bottle of plum wine and drank it down.
“Is that all?” Barker asked.
Cathcart belched, then shook his head. “They didn’t talk for about five minutes. The waiters were bringing more food and trying hard to listen for anything said. When they gave up, the English cove spoke again.
“‘We want assurances that Hong Kong and Australia are safe.’
“‘Of course they are safe. We would not turn on our allies.’
“‘This is all speculation, of course,’ the Foreign Office toff says. ‘Since you haven’t convinced the emperor yet.’
“‘We have the military,’ the other says. ‘We’ll convince him one way or the other.’
“There was a toast then, which interrupted their talking for a while. When it started again, English had been thinking.
“‘Why don’t you go east? Give them bloody Americans a taste of their own medicine.’
“‘We have considered it. Certainly, we will need the Sandwich Islands for provisions.’
“‘With a steam warship you could inflict a good deal of damage upon San Francisco.’
“‘With ten we could burn the entire coast. Ah, but these are dreams. Let us deal with the matter at hand.’
“‘The matter,’ English says, ‘is that K’ing was supposed to be here and where is he? Sucking on a pipe, I’ll be bound. We English are more reliable.’
“‘But more cunning,’ the general said. ‘You toy with us. Where are the promised ships?’
“‘They are being built and will be ready when the shipment is ready and the deal signed,’ English said. ‘I’ll have the maps for you within the week.’
“The general was displeased. ‘Very well,’ he said.
“That was all, Your Lordship.”
Barker said nothing. Ho said nothing. Henry Cathcart was wrung dry, but he had come through where Ho’s waiters had failed.
“Maps,” Barker growled. “That’s it, the final piece of the puzzle. The Japanese have very poor coastal maps. The English are famous for them, but they are not very generous in lending them to foreign governments. That is why they have not signed a deal with K’ing, at a lower price. They need the maps.”
Suddenly, he smote the table, nearly reducing it to kindling. “I should have seen that! Living among the English has made me muddleheaded.”
“You’re English yourself,” Ho said.
“I am Scottish,” the Guv insisted.
“English, Scottish, you’re all of a piece.”
“As the Chinese and Japanese are all of a piece.”
Ho crossed his burly arms and looked away. Barker was not that obvious, but he turned away, as well. Henry Cathcart cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry, Henry. Thomas, give the gentleman a tenner.”
“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’ll take five now and five in a week or two. Ten slips straight through the fingers.”
“Good work, by the way. There is no better informer in all London.”
The Sponge tipped his hat. “Always glad to oblige you honorable gentlemen. I hope to be of use to you again. Mr. Ho, good victuals, as always. What was that stuff I was eating?”
“Sukiyaki.”
“Marvelous. Well, gents, mustn’t leave the publicans waiting.”
We watched him stagger off. Some claim Henry’s abilities are God given, but I know better. With few skills to offer the workaday world, he had developed one which some would envy. No one needs an informant that cannot recall the exact words of the people he is following. The ability to do so while appearing drunk or even unconscious was worth its weight in gold.
“What sort of maps is Mononobe nego
tiating for? What country do you suppose he will attack first?”
“Japan,” Ho stated. “He cannot do anything without the consent of his countrymen.”
“What would he do? Overthrow the emperor and establish a … What’s the word? A shogunate?”
“He’s already got the backing of the important families in Japan,” Barker said. “More likely he will convince the emperor to accept him as prime minister. The Meiji dynasty has lost power over the last few decades.”
“What about the people?” I asked.
“They have little say, and would probably fall for speeches that claim Japan will become a world power.”
“What if he succeeds? Will he threaten Britain?”
“Not yet. They would sign some kind of cordial treaty. England and Japan would divide the world between them. That is why Campbell-Ffinch was so concerned with Hong Kong and Australia, English colonies in that part of the world.”
“But Japan is such a small country. How can they hope to take over China or Korea?” I asked.
“They are roughly the size of England, and they will be armed with the latest munitions.”
“I hate politics,” I admitted. “Why can’t countries leave each other alone?”
“Envy. Jealousy,” Ho stated. “Somebody wants what you have and plans to take it.”
“I don’t think—”
One of the Chinese waiters, the one whom Barker had sacked, burst into the room and breathlessly spoke to Ho. Immediately Ho jumped and ran toward the stairs.
“What is it?” I cried.
“The Inn of Double Happiness is on fire!”
We followed Ho up the steep staircase to the roof and ran to the edge. Off to the south against a jet-black sky, an orange glow lit up the night. Until that sight, I had not realized that Ho’s tearoom and the inn were on the same side of the river, a few warrenlike streets away.
I was mesmerized by the fire. It is a common weakness to be stopped stock-still by a conflagration. We all stared in wonder, but Barker was the first to speak.
“Let us see if we can help.”
To a man we followed after him, not down the stair to the tunnel, but down a metal ladder affixed to the river side of the building. There were over a dozen of us: guests, waiters, and cooks. Some, perhaps, had homes in the area. One building could kindle the whole of Limehouse.
We did not wait to collect the group on the ground. As each man reached the street, he began running toward the inn. Barker, the first on the ladder, was long gone by the time I touched the ground. I ran through an alleyway, and turned south toward Limehouse Docks, toward the blaze ahead of me.
I could see flames rising from the windows, the latter having been already blown out. However, the exterior was not yet affected. As I ran, a fire pumper pulled by a pair of big Friesians raced past, carrying a battery of volunteer firemen, all of them English. I suspected the Chinese were barred from rescuing their own district.
As the way was already made for me among the crowd, thanks to the engine, I ran into the midst of them. The firemen had jumped from their vessel, and were already gathering hoses and pumping to add pressure. Soot covered everyone who was being pulled from the casino, coughing and retching. A secondary hose was used to draw water from the Thames. It wasn’t potable, but for dousing a fire, it was ideal.
Unfortunately, there was little we could do. Bucket brigades were unnecessary. But watching the blaze was not enough. We must help. I pushed my way through the crowd, but not as easily as my employer. I reached the door and we stepped inside.
The heat was searing. The large roulette table was on fire, and the curtains and wallpaper, up to the ceiling, were licked by flames. As we watched, a giant crystal chandelier crashed to the floor.
I began to gag on the heavy smoke that filled the room. It was as if I had walked into Dante’s Inferno. Barker led me to a man trapped under a charred beam, but it was too late for him, poor blighter. There was a woman lying on the floor in a dress which was already smoldering. Her sightless eyes gazed at the ceiling. Her addiction to gambling had proved her undoing.
Barker waved me back. I was in danger of collapsing. His coat was suddenly caught on fire at the shoulder and I literally ripped it from his frame. There was no time or need to stamp it out. We backed out of the room, and as we stepped into the cool, delicious night air, I noticed that my employer’s face was both red from the fire and blackened by smoke. I reached up and ran a finger along my cheek. It came away black.
We had suffered burns in the one minute we had stepped into the building. I dragged the Guv along to the water lapping in Limehouse Reach to a small sandbar, where we both bathed our faces in the filthy water. As far as I was concerned, we had done our duty.
The casino was past saving. Unfortunately, all of Limehouse was still a tinderbox. So was Poplar and Bethnal Green and Whitechapel. An uncontrolled fire could destroy the entire East End. The first in line would be Ho’s restaurant, where we had just been having a party. Fire doesn’t take anything into consideration.
Cinders and soot were raining down upon our heads. The heat and fire were growing to the levels we had found inside the building. Worse, in fact, for the oxygen was aiding the flames, and there was no limit to how high they could go. The glow I had seen from the top of the tearoom was now a ball of flame thirty feet tall.
“You don’t think Fu Ying is inside, do you?”
“No, she has always done her best to avoid the place.”
A final second-story window shattered then and a figure clad in black leaped out of the frame, toward the river. He was aflame from his long queue to his trousers. The building sucked in air and flames, and the sound seemed to intensify. Meanwhile, the flaming man’s body hit the water with a hiss and was swept along by the river. Disaster may come and go, but it could not stop the steady flow of Lady Thames.
“Mr. K’ing,” Barker said.
“That was K’ing?”
“Aye.”
“Is he dead, do you think?”
“Probably not. But he’ll wish he were.”
He suddenly raised his head.
“What is it?”
He pushed himself up off the sandbar we rested on.
“Come with me,” he said.
Reluctantly, I followed. He moved through the crowd to the south and stepped into the next street. Reaching a sewer cover, he pulled it to the side and immediately began to descend.
In the sewer, we could hear the roar of the fire, but there was little or no heat. As I stepped forward I realized this was the entrance to K’ing’s underground passage. As we walked, the trickle of water ended, and a few feet later one came upon carpet. The old leaden walls gave way to wallpaper, and eventually to works of art. Chinese landscapes, and works under glass, carved from cork. Finally, we came to a door.
“As expected,” Barker said.
A thick metal pipe was wedged under the handle of the door. I reached for it and he quickly pulled my hand away.
“Don’t touch it!” the Guv ordered. “Open that door and the flames will shoot out into the street behind us. We’d be cremated instantly.”
“The fire was set deliberately,” I said. “K’ing’s way of egress was blocked.”
“Someone endangered the lives of all the gamblers to try to kill one man.”
“Who would do such a thing?” I asked.
“Oh, I could think of a name or two.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I never thought I would say this, but I did not fully trust my employer. He kept secrets from me and I did not like it one bit. I knew he was a private man, and I also knew that he preferred not to speak about a case until he had solved it, but this was a combination of the two. For all I knew, he had already solved the case but was dragging it out for reasons of his own. I had seen him face an adversary from his past before, Sebastian Nightwine. Apparently, he was not alone. A man like the Guv attracts enemies. I don’t mind that. It is part of my work. However,
I would like to know who is a friend, and who an enemy.
It wasn’t that I was curious. I needed to know, if only for my self-protection. Very deliberately, without anesthetic, I needed to probe the wound with a scalpel and he was not going to like it one bit.
“Sir,” I said. “You were in Japan for a time, were you not?”
We were in the dining room at dinner the next evening. We had spent the entire day helping Limehouse with the tragedy. I was fortifying my courage with a glass of red wine. We were not wine bibbers in the Barker household, but it went with the braised duck confit Etienne had made. After the chef had prepared it, Mac had gone to the lumber room in the basement and unearthed a cobwebby bottle.
Barker gave me a stony look and said nothing, but I was undaunted.
“That must have been in the sixties. Were you in Honshu or Hokkaido?”
“Hokkaido. Since when did you know the name?”
“Liam Grant lent me a map. Let’s see. That was the northernmost island and the hardest to get to. Why did you go there?”
Mac came in and gave me a warning look that said, “Don’t do it! Don’t talk about this!”
I ignored him.
“There was a war going on,” Barker finally said. “The imperial forces were determined to destroy the samurai class. They were in need of supplies. I brought the Osprey there, and delivered supplies to the exiled samurai.”
“Guns?” I asked.
“No, not guns. If anything, the war was an ideological battle between traditional samurai warfare and modern Western weapons. My cargo was tea and rice. Hokkaido is little more than a black rock, you see. There are few fields for growing much there.”
“So, what happened?” I asked, helping myself to another glass of claret.
“A woman. I married her.”
The wine went down the wrong pipe. I choked and then coughed a dozen times, while Barker and Mac glared at me with disapproval. I was beginning to regret having asked. However, this was the most interesting news I’d heard in ages.
“You married her?” I squeaked. “Did you reveal to everyone that you were a Scotsman?”