Mogul

by Joanna Shupe

Calvin hung his head and cursed Kwan’s timing. “How are you, my friend?” he asked in Cantonese.

  Kwan placed the bowls on the table, one in front of Lily and the other on Calvin’s side. He straightened and bowed. “I could be better. And what is this, you bringing a woman here?”

  “I’ve lost my mind, apparently.” They had been friends for many years, first meeting in China, then later in San Francisco. Calvin had convinced Kwan and his son to relocate to New York in hope of better opportunities. And if it weren’t for Lee, the idea would have worked.

  Lily’s mouth twisted in annoyance, so Calvin immediately switched to English. “Lily, please meet Kwan, the best cook to ever leave Hong Kong. Kwan, this is Miss Lillian Davies.”

  Lily held out her hand and Kwan, ever the show-off, bowed dramatically over it. “It is an honor, Miss Davies.”

  “Quit flirting with her.” Calvin pushed Kwan’s arm aside. Switching back to Cantonese, he said, “This one has the temperament of a grizzly bear.”

  “Which explains why you like her,” Kwan said, one black eyebrow raised.

  “I don’t like her,” Calvin returned, and the words sounded false even in Cantonese. “The only reason I’m here is to ask you some questions,” he said in English.

  “And here I assumed it was because you missed me.” Kwan gestured to the bowls on the table. “Eat, please. Your questions can wait until after your soup.”

  Lily cleared her throat delicately, her gaze fixed on the thick, murky contents of the bowl. “What type of soup is this?”

  Calvin picked up the wide, flat spoon. “Bird’s nest soup. It’s delicious—and one of Kwan’s specialties.” He tried to examine the soup from her eyes, as if he’d never had the pleasure of tasting it before. Slightly lumpy, the simple yet flavorful broth contained spices Kwan would never reveal.

  “It is not just soup. The Chinese believe yin wor has healing powers,” Kwan told Lily.

  “It’s also supposed to increase the libido,” Calvin couldn’t resist adding. “Though I’ve yet to prove it.”

  “Not for a lack of trying, no doubt,” Lily muttered under her breath and lifted her spoon.

  Calvin ignored her and turned to his friend. “Please, sit with us.”

  Lily dragged her spoon through the bowl, stirring the soup. “I don’t understand why it’s called bird’s nest soup. Are there bits of twigs and feathers in here?”

  Calvin sampled a bite and sighed as the delicious liquid slid down his throat. A rich and hearty broth, the soup had a slightly salty quality to it. Kwan’s particular version, with egg white, sherry, and other secret ingredients, rivaled any other prepared on earth. “No twigs or feathers.”

  “These are not ordinary bird’s nests,” Kwan told her as he pulled over a chair to sit. “Special birds use saliva to build the nests in caves. They are very rare.”

  Lily’s brow furrowed as she stared at the bowl warily. “Saliva? You mean a bird has spit in it?”

  “Go ahead,” Calvin said, nudging her foot with his boot as he sipped another spoonful from his own bowl. She had insisted on accompanying him to Chinatown—stolen away in his carriage, actually—and he’d be damned if he’d let her leave without trying the soup. “Do not tell me you’re afraid.”

  The taunt worked, as he knew it would. She threw her shoulders back and dipped her spoon into the broth. Plump, luscious lips parted as she slowly sucked the liquid off the porcelain spoon. A wave of heat slid through his veins, his own meal forgotten.

  “You watch too hard,” Kwan said in Cantonese.

  “Fuck you,” he responded, which only caused Kwan to laugh.

  She swallowed and then closed her eyes briefly in appreciation. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Mr. Kwan.”

  “My pleasure. It is your Mr. Cabot’s favorite.”

  “Oh, he is not mine. Definitely not.”

  Calvin concentrated on his soup instead of the knowing smile on Kwan’s face. He came to the point of the visit. “Do you know of any American men who might have been serious about one of Lee’s girls?”

  “Lee’s girls?” Kwan frowned, his slim face tensing. “A man with a death wish, perhaps.”

  “A man we know may have taken one of Lee’s girls into hiding.”

  “To sell her?”

  “No!” Lily interjected. “He would never do such a terrible thing.”

  Kwan glanced between Lily and Calvin, a question in his friend’s dark eyes. “Her brother,” Calvin said quietly. “His name is Thomas Davies. Have you heard of him?”

  “No,” Kwan answered. “That’s not a name known to me. But Lee would never allow one of his working girls to leave. They are watched constantly, a precious commodity in Chinatown, and Lee does not like to lose money.”

  Calvin knew this, but there could be no other explanation for what Tom had done to evoke Lee’s wrath. “Lee said he’s lost someone precious to him, someone priceless. He believes Mr. Davies has taken her.”

  “But Lee has not given you a name?”

  “No,” Calvin answered.

  Lily tapped her fingers on the table. “This person, the one Lee said is priceless... Lee used the name Ming Zhu.”

  Kwan’s face paled before he glanced nervously at the other diners. Calvin gripped his friend’s arm, gaining his attention. “That cannot be right. Does that mean what I think?”

  Kwan leaned in and lowered his voice. “If that is the name Lee gave, then your brother is in far greater trouble than you thought, Miss Davies. It seems he has absconded with Lee’s daughter.”

  Chapter Seven

  Lily absorbed this information while Calvin choked out, “Lee has a daughter?”

  Mr. Kwan nodded, his long queue shifting on his back. “Indeed, only the one. It is not well known, but she lives in a house on Mott Street, one well-guarded and removed from his other enterprises.”

  Her brother . . . and Lee’s daughter? Lily did not keep track of Tom’s paramours and he certainly never confided in her regarding his romantic attachments. There had been a chorus girl two or three years ago, but no serious liaisons since then that she was aware of. Her brother was the consummate New York man about town, concerned only with gaiety and parties while Lily kept their father’s mine afloat. For now.

  “How would Tom have become acquainted with her?” she asked the two men. “I can’t imagine Lee allows her to walk unescorted through Chinatown. She must be as heavily guarded as the women Lee employs.”

  “Not quite as heavily guarded, Miss Davies. It is my understanding the girl is spirited and not easy to control.”

  Calvin asked Kwan a question in Chinese and Kwan answered in kind. “What did you say?” she asked Calvin.

  “I asked if Lee beats or mistreats her. Kwan responded that he doesn’t know. I suspect we won’t learn any answers until you find your brother.”

  Kwan said something to Calvin in Chinese and he grimaced. “I’m well aware,” Calvin returned. “Has anyone commented on her disappearance?”

  “I have heard nothing, but I will ask Ho Seng to visit some of his friends. Perhaps one of them knows.”

  “Quietly,” Calvin said. “I wouldn’t like either of you hurt. Asking questions might bring Lee to your doorstep.”

  “Lee is already on my doorstep, my friend. I keep trying to sweep him away.” He motioned with his hands as if sweeping a broom.

  “Is he still demanding you join the Tong?”

  “Yes. We refuse, but he is very persistent.”

  Lily tried to follow the discussion, but her brain was stuck on Tom with Lee’s daughter. Many resented the Chinese here in America, with laws enacted to restrict their ability to enter the country and hold jobs, but she did not. Judging an entire group of people based on skin color or birthplace was wrong. After all, unless one was a member of the native tribes that had resided here for centuries, everyone else had immigrated from another country at one point. So intolerance of those that did the same seemed hypocritical.

  Not e
veryone would be so accepting, however. Surely Tom knew that. If Tom was thinking of marrying Lee’s daughter, Lily doubted Lee would agree to it. In fact, if Lee were as ruthless as Calvin said, her brother was in serious jeopardy.

  “We need to find Tom before Mr. Lee does,” she told Calvin.

  “Yes, that is obvious—and there’s no we in this. I only promised to ask around. I cannot drop everything to hunt the globe for your brother.”

  Kwan muttered something in Chinese, his lips quirked in amusement, and Calvin snapped an angry return in the same language. “Stop speaking in Chinese,” she told him. “It’s rude.”

  “It’s Cantonese, and that’s too damn bad,” Calvin said. “If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to return home.”

  “I apologize, Miss Davies,” Mr. Kwan said. “It is disrespectful of us not to include you. What I told Mr. Cabot—”

  “Never mind that,” Calvin interrupted. “You have no hope of finding Tom until he wants to be found. If he’s taken Lee’s daughter, he realizes the danger he’s in and will stay in hiding.”

  “Until when? He cannot hide forever, and he promised he would visit the mine.” And begin taking over from her, so that Lily could finally have a break. She had lived and breathed the mining operations since their father’s death, only because she couldn’t stand to see it collapse or leave the family.

  “Have you contacted the foreman or any of the supervisors in Dakota? Perhaps he has arrived in the last day or so.”

  “Yes, I did, and none have heard from Tom.”

  “It would be hard for your brother to travel with Lee’s daughter,” Mr. Kwan pointed out. “A white man traveling alone by train with a Chinese woman would garner attention, even in third class.”

  “He hasn’t used our private rail coach,” Lily noted.

  “What about a boat?” Calvin suggested.

  “Easier,” Kwan agreed. “Especially at night.”

  That made sense, but Lily wasn’t certain. “I was told he boarded a first-class car at Grand Central Depot, alone.”

  “Because that is what he wanted you to think.” Calvin finished his soup, scraping the bottom of the bowl with the porcelain spoon. Lily also took another swallow. She had to admit, despite the unappetizing idea of bird saliva, the soup was heavenly.

  “Have you chased down the locations of all your yachts?” Calvin asked.

  “There’s just the one, and yes, I did. For the last month, it’s been over near the South Street docks, undergoing repairs.”

  “Repairs?” Calvin asked, pushing his empty bowl aside. “When was the last time you clapped eyes on the boat for yourself?”

  “Last week, when I checked there for Tom.”

  “Didn’t you think to check more recently?”

  She gritted her teeth, grinding out her frustration with Calvin, a man who thought he had all the answers. “I will do so tomorrow morning.”

  He caught her gaze, his electric blue eyes thoughtful. She had no idea what had him so pensive, but he finally scratched his jaw. “Finish your soup, princess. We’ll go to the docks now.”

  * * *

  Water lapped against the wooden planks of the dock. The scaffolding where the Davies yacht had been undergoing repairs stood bare. The nearby slip was also empty. “And there you have your answer,” Calvin said. “I hate to tell you this, but—”

  “Don’t say it,” Lily snapped.

  They were in his carriage on the east side of Manhattan. Ships loaded and unloaded their cargo here before sailing out of the harbor and into the Atlantic. Activity hardly stopped here. New York was the nation’s busiest port, after all, and it would have been incredibly easy for Davies to squire Lee’s daughter away on the yacht amid the chaos.

  Lily’s expression was a mixture of anger and resentment, one he recognized well. “Blast,” she said. “I had hoped you were wrong.”

  “And yet I never am.”

  Unfortunately, this reminded him of what he had been wrong about. If Warren Davies were still alive, Calvin would pummel him senseless. Turned out Lily had never believed he was after the Davies money, had waited for him to return, and had her own money set aside in a trust. Christ, what a mess.

  Of course she didn’t know the other reason he’d walked away from their marriage, the reason that had nothing to do with her family’s money. She wouldn’t either. No one would, not until Lee had fulfilled his end of the bargain and brought Hugo’s wife to America.

  He returned to the topic at hand. “So the question is, to where would your brother sail?”

  She exhaled and turned back to the window, her gloved fingers tapping lightly on her thigh. “Is there anyone we could speak to? Anyone who might have seen something?”

  Plenty of shapes moved along the length of the dark waterfront, both large and small. Most were likely longshoremen and clerks, but others might be desperate criminals or gang members with no regard for the law. The Bugle had recently reported on a ring of notorious river pirates, one of many found up and down these docks. The pirates boarded ships at night to steal anything not nailed down, quick to slit a man’s throat rather than leave a witness. No chance would Calvin allow Lily to risk her life out there.

  “I’m not letting you out of the carriage to wander about the docks at this late hour. There are rats and all other manner of vermin running around out there.”

  “Rats? You think a rat will dissuade me from getting answers?”

  “Nevertheless, you’ll need to return tomorrow for any questioning.”

  “Damn it, Calvin. It was your idea to come down here tonight in the first place. And I need answers now.”

  “I understand that Lee gave you a deadline and you’re feeling impatient. Nonetheless, I’ll not allow you to risk injury—or worse—by cavorting up and down the docks tonight.”

  “Cavorting? Is that really what you think I’d be doing?”

  He held up his hands, palms out. “Not me, but the longshoremen might see it that way. Besides, what you need to think on is where Tom might sail with a Chinese woman he needed to hide.”

  “The cottage in Newport is closest, though it’s shuttered until June. There would be only a few staff members in residence.”

  “Easy enough to sail there, and it would be difficult for Lee and his men to get about unnoticed in Newport should he decide to give chase.”

  “What about that man over there?” she asked, suddenly pointing to the window. “Should we talk to him?”

  Peering in the gaslight, Calvin made out a man sitting and playing what appeared to be a harmonica. “No. You shouldn’t be out here at—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, she flew out the door, lifting her skirts and hurrying toward the lone figure. Cursing, Calvin bolted from the carriage. “Hugo!” he called over his shoulder.

  By the time he reached Lily, she was only steps from where the man slumped on a stack of shipping crates. Calvin grabbed her arm. “You fool. This place is dangerous at night.”

  Even shrouded in shadow, her face conveyed her annoyance. She poked his sternum with her gloved finger. “Our marriage ended, in case you’ve forgotten. You have no right to order me about. If I want to strip off my dress and swim in the river, you’ll not stop me.”

  “Like hell I won’t.” He bent closer and snarled, “I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to the carriage, kicking and screaming if necessary.”

  They stared at each other in a battle of wills neither wanted to lose, like two generals squared off at a stalemate. Calvin had never cared about her last name, never believed a pampered daughter of a silver magnate should get her way merely because of her status. She could not control everyone and everything, running roughshod over the world because she was Warren Davies’s daughter—at least not with him.

  “Miss, you shouldn’t be out here after dark. It ain’t safe for ladies.”

  The raspy, slightly slurred voice belonged to the man sitting on the crate. He wore a simple cloth ca
p pulled low over his weathered face, his jaw weighted down by a beard that hadn’t been trimmed since Custer took his last stand. A half-finished bottle of whiskey was tucked in his jacket.

  Calvin said, “See, even the drunk agrees with me. Let’s go.”

  Lily jerked her arm out of his grip. Chin raised in stubborn triumph, she swept toward the crates. “Excuse me, sir. I merely wanted to ask if you know what happened to the boat docked here a few days ago.”

  Hugo arrived at Calvin’s side. “I have the pistol,” his friend said under his breath.

  “Good.” Calvin’s gaze never left Lily’s back. “Keep a hand on it and an eye out. I’ll watch the two of them.”

  “Here?” The old man scratched his chin. “I’m not one for hangin’ about, miss. I don’t frequent the docks but once a week. Thursdays, my wife visits her sister and, well, I always get me a bottle and come down to the water.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment echoed in the one word, and Calvin had to wonder if she’d truly thought it would be that easy. “Then I best let you enjoy your evening. My thanks, and I beg your pardon for the interruption.” She drew herself up, a soldier determined to carry on, and spun on her heel.

  Lamplight illuminated her features when she crossed through the golden glow, and a protective longing rose up in Calvin’s chest, one that expanded to ridiculous proportions. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and promise to fight every evil, slay all the dragons . . . burn down the whole damn world if that’s what she needed.

  He shook his head, and clarity swiftly returned. The time to play Lancelot to her Guinevere had long passed.

  Lily continued toward where he and Hugo stood waiting. Biting back harsh words about her rashness, Calvin held his arm out to escort her.

  “Wait, miss!” The old man came unsteadily to his feet and started after them.

  Lily stopped and peered over her shoulder. “Yes? Did you remember something?”

  “No, but you should talk to Petey over there.” A gnarled finger pointed to a ramshackle building over by the counting office. “Petey’s a junkman. He knows just about everything that happens on these docks.”

  “Excellent, we’ll do so right away. Thank you so much, sir.”