by Gai-Jin(Lit)
"I like champagne too, though not tonight. But soon you'll be able to afford all you want, no?
My husband told me your affairs were going to improve, tremendously, and that you had many secrets to share with him--for mutual profit."
"He did?" Gornt was caught off guard for he and Malcolm Struan had agreed to tell no one else. Norbert? Norbert didn't count, that was just more of the plan to confuse the enemy and
Norbert had always been enemy. "Secrets,
Ma'am?"
"He told me he liked you, trusted you, as
I do, that you were a man who could keep secrets as well as know them, and who understood the value of old friends--in the Chinese sense."
"That part's true. I liked and trusted him too."
"Jamie said you've booked passage on Prancing Cloud."
"Yes, that's right, Ma'am."
"My husband said you were going to give him special information about how to ruin the Brocks. You were going to tell him yesterday morning after... was it only yesterday? It seems a lifetime ago--for
Malcolm it was, poor Malcolm."
He sighed, sad for her. "Yes. May I say you've changed, Ma'am? You're different.
Without wanting to be impertinent, or callous, may I say the change suits you very much."
"I would prefer ten thousand time to have my husband alive, and not to have changed." Her openness surprised her, though like Malcolm, she had always found Gornt easy to talk to. "I'm not yet sure about the change, if I like it. Growing up so fast is, I don't know the right word, is aching, scare-making." She got up and refilled his glass, then put the iced champagne bucket on the table, closer to him.
"Thanks," he said, aware of her more than ever before.
"I've decided not to go to Hong Kong by the clipper."
"Ah, yes, Ma'am. I'd heard the rumor, something about you not wanting to go aboard her again--or your husband's remains--that you go by mail ship." As soon as he had heard, for safety, he had seen the agent to reserve passage also but all cabins were taken. Cursing, he had tried to find Jamie but Jamie was not in the building.
"I can understand you not wanting to go on the Cloud."
Her hands were tranquil in her lap, her voice quiet and as controlled. "These secrets you were going to tell my husband, will you tell them to me?"
He smiled his nice smile, fascinated by her, and shook his head. "Sorry, Ma'am, no
--even if I had any."
She nodded, not offended. "I didn't expect you to, I'm sure I wouldn't understand them if you did, and then, I could never put them into effect anyway, could I?" He smiled. "But Tess
Struan can, no?"
"Ma'am?"
"My husband told me you said if anything happened to him, you would go at once to Hong Kong to deal directly with his mother, to make the same arrangement with her you had made with him. He said you were doing this because you hated the Brocks-- he didn't tell me why you hated them." She reached up and toyed with the stem of her glass.
"Tess Struan could certainly use the information, if what you claim is true, no? This was
Tuesday, before we were married."
Again, he just watched her, a pleasant expression on his handsome face.
"I can understand why my husband liked you,
Edward, why you'd be a dangerous enemy, and even more dangerous a friend."
This made him laugh outright and the tension between them broke. "Not to you, Ma'am, never, I swear it.
Never."
"We'll see. We have many bridges to cross you and I, for, by God, as my husband would say,
I am embracing his hopes and dreams as my own: that you can help Struan's destroy the Brocks, once and for all. Perhaps your hopes and dreams too."
"Mine?"
She opened her bag and took out the paper she had found in the safe's inner compartment, held it closer to the light to see better and read aloud:
""This is my solemn agreement with Mr.
Edward Gornt, gentleman, of Rothwell's in
Shanghai: if information provided by him assists
Struan's to break Brock and Sons, causing them to go under within the next six months, on behalf of Struan's I guarantee that he will receive from their wreckage, the Brock 50% interest in
Rothwell's free and clear, that we will assist him in good faith, as best we can, with the Victoria
Bank to raise the necessary loan to purchase the other
50% belonging to Jefferson Cooper, that from this date, for twenty years, Struan's grants him, or any company he personally controls, favored nation status on any mutually agreed business dealings.""
She held it for him to see but did not hand it over. "It's dated the day before yesterday, Edward, signed but not witnessed."
He made no move to take it. His eyesight was good. While she was reading it he had recognized the signature. Without the witness it doesn't have its real value, he thought, his mind moving rapidly from plan to plan, from question to question, to answers. "So?"
"I could witness my husband's signature."
His mind stopped churning with a jolt. "A wife witnessing her husband's signature isn't usually valid."
"Say I witnessed it the same day--before we were married."
Where the devil's she getting all this from? he was thinking frantically. Jamie? Heavenly? She's like one of Stevenson's new steam rollers.
"Even if, even if the paper was witnessed, it wouldn't bind the Noble House."
"Yes, but it would carry weight with Tess
Struan--it would be an agreement with her son.
Doesn't it confirm you were working with my husband, clandestinely, to deliver her the greatest ambition of her life?"
"Perhaps, perhaps it would, Ma'am." He hesitated. "Jamie approves of the document?"
"He doesn't know about it. No one does except me," she told him, believing it. Why else would Malcolm hide it?
Thoughtfully, he poured some wine--he noticed she had not touched hers further. "I imagine," he said delicately, "such a favor would require one in return, Ma'am."
"I would like you to hurry by Prancing Cloud with all speed, as you planned, and see Tess
Struan. And deliver a letter from me."
His eyes widened with disbelief. "That's all?"
"Not exactly. When you arrive Hong Kong-- the clipper will be there long before the mail ship--you must get to her before she hears the tragic news of my husband's death from anyone else. It is essential that you get to her first, telling her you bring her terrible news but also secret information, vital information that guarantees the ruin of
Brocks forever, that will put them out of business forever quickly." She took a deep breath. "It will won't it?"
"Yes," he said softly, no longer a need to deny it.
"Next, tell her the Brocks had planned to murder Malcolm, using Norbert Greyforth.
Third that..."
"They what?"
"Isn't that true? Wasn't that part of Tyler
Brock's plot? Or Morgan's? Certainly
Jamie is of that opinion--he would swear to it.
Mr. Skye told me about the duel, the rest I forced from Jamie--why there was a duel. Wasn't
Norbert just a pawn for murder?"
"Maybe," Gornt said, overwhelmed by her.
"Probably. Next?"
"Next." Her voice became quieter but oddly, clearer: "Please tell her it's because of me you're bringing her the evidence to destroy
Brock's--you must keep stressing that."
"Because of you?"
"Because of me. Yes. Emphasize that. It's important to me, not much to ask, and you will get what you want anyway."
"You're sure?"
"Yes. You tell her you were going to forget this written contract you had with her son, believing it to be valueless now. But because I asked you, pleaded with you to see her in his stead, you decided to rush to Hong Kong to see her." She leaned closer.
"The information, must it be acted on quick
ly?"
"Yes," he said.
"Then emphasize that. But most of all, keep stressing it was I who persuaded you to go to her, my pleading persuaded you to see her to give her the evidence to destroy Malcolm's enemies and hers
... that I assured you she would honor the contract, or give you an equivalent. And she will. Tess Struan will, I guarantee."
"With your signature?"
"That's the first thing she will notice, so mention it in advance. Say Malcolm asked me to witness his signature, saying only it was a business contract between you two, which I did in front of you, without thought--on Monday, before the party. I didn't read it, nor ask about it. Last, say you have an urgent letter from me, and give it to her."
Angelique picked up her glass. "If she reads it in front of you, she probably won't, but if she does, I'd like to know what she says or does."
Now she took a second sip, leaned back, waiting, her eyes locked on his.
Her face still told him nothing. "What's in the letter?"
"You may read it, if you wish, before I seal it." She added lightly, without spite, "It will save you the bother of opening it."
His mind was pondering the conundrum of her.
"And the news of his death, your marriage and his death, how do I tell her that and all the rest?"
"I don't know, Edward. You will know how to do that."
He grunted, astounded by the gall, no not gall, more by the cunning. Obviously, her goal was to slide into Tess's favor out of the existing enmity, and to forestall any action, civil or criminal, that a mother such as Tess Struan, torn apart by the agony of her loss, might, will, unleash against her--the current betting five to one
Tess Struan would, two to one she would win.
Never mind that, this strategy could squeeze
Angelique into the winner's circle--could. With care, not quite as she had suggested it, much more subtly than that, he could do what she proposed without harming his own position and make his deal with Tess who would certainly give him everything he wanted--once the shock of her son's death had lessened and she could appreciate the enormity of what he had to offer.
Better for me to ease Angelique off the
Tess Struan barb, much better. What should I ask in return? Her signature, of course but what else? What else do I want from her?
There are all kinds of gambit I co--
Angelique was reaching for the pen. Her face was grave as she signed her name as witness, dating it the day before yesterday. Silently she powdered it dry, blew the excess away, and placed it in front of him, her eyes still downcast.
"Whatever you decide, this is yours now, freely," she said, gambling on his well-advertised sense of honor. "As for the rest, if you help me, Edward," now she looked up at him, something inside of him stirred deliciously, "you would also have my gratitude, my undying gratitude, forever."
Inside the shoya's dwelling, Jamie sat cross-legged on the tatami, shoeless, Hiraga opposite him. At the head of the table was the shoya, and sak`e and tea.
For an hour or more Jamie had answered and asked questions, Hiraga translating, hesitating over the strange words, wanting further explanations to understand clearly. Jamie was tired, not because of the time spent here, a fascinating and a welcome relief from all his other troubles, but because there seemed to be no solution to them. He had been upset by Sir William's refusal to be swayed over the burial, though understanding perfectly
--he would have done the same in his position. Poor
Angelique, poor Malcolm, poor Noble
House. Even poor bloody Tess.
Something has to give. It won't be Wee
Willie. It has to be Angelique--there's nothing she or anyone can do. This time I think it will break her.
As simply as he could he had laid out his idea for a joint venture, the shoya and his contacts supplying the goods on consignment they agreed on,
Jamie supplying the European know-how, a six months leeway for payment which would give time for the goods to be sold and the money either to come back, or to be reinvested in mass-produced goods that they, in return, would advise the joint venture to import. This led into a discussion of quantities, then into mass production methods that could make them all rich.
"Shoya ask: What cost your massu produk'shun machine?"
"It depends what the machines are to make,"
Jamie said.
"Jami-sama, he ask you, p'rease, you say what goods to make to se're in Ing'rund. Not now, in three day, p'rease. If shoya agree, perhaps make stoku kompeni and bring massu produk'shun machine to Nippon."
Jamie smiled. "Mass production is initially expensive to set up, machines and factory. It's not like the joint venture I suggested. There's no way I could raise that much money."
"Jami-sama, you not worry, not worry about money. Gyokoyama can buy-se're Yedo if want." Hiraga smiled grimly as Jamie blinked. "Shoya thank you and I thank you.
P'rease, in three days, you say what to make and price. I see you home."
"No need for that, thanks."
Hiraga bowed, the shoya bowed, Jamie bowed back equally and went into the evening air.
"Tea, Sire?" the shoya asked.
Hiraga nodded a yes, preparing to leave, needing a bath and massage, but pleased with himself, everything done now except to collect Jami
Mukfey's supposed fee of the three koku.
The shoya ordered fresh tea. When the maid had gone, he said, "I have some news. By carrier pigeon, Otami-sama, about Lord Yoshi, and about the shishi you might like to hear."
"Stop playing games! Of course I wish to hear." Now that he was alone with the shoya,
Hiraga became imperious and samurai without noticing it. "What news?"
"There's been another attempt on Lord
Yoshi."
"He's dead?" Hiraga said hopefully.
"No, Otami-sama, here, please read for yourself." With pretended meekness the shoya offered the sliver of paper, the same he had previously shown to Raiko and Meikin: An assassination attempt on Yoshi at dawn at Hamamatsu village failed. Lone shishi assassin slain by him. Lady Koiko also dead in skirmish.
Inform Wisteria our great sadness. More information soon as possible.
Hiraga read it, and gasped. "When did this happen?"
"Five days ago, Otami-sama."
"Nothing further?"
"Not yet."
Reading the message, his headache seemed to become even worse, his thoughts jumbled. Koiko dead, another shishi dead! Who? If she's dead what about Sumomo? "You've informed the House of
Wisteria?"
"Yes, Otami-sama."
"What did Meikin say?"
"She was distraught, Otami-sama, naturally."
"What else do you know, shoya?"
"What I know that affects you and shishi, I tell you."
"What about Katsumata and Takeda?"
"The word, Sire, they were still travelling towards us, as, supposedly, Lord Yoshi is."
"When does he arrive back? Has he changed his plans now?" he asked, his mind tumbling. If Koiko was killed in the skirmish, was it by accident, or had Yoshi discovered Koiko had tentacles to us, as Meikin has? "Eh?"
"I don't know. Perhaps about eight days,
Otami-sama." The shoya studied Hiraga's concern and thought that, yes, this youth should be concerned for obviously he is in great danger, but eeee, how valuable he is! I agree he is a National
Treasure, or should be. Joint-u ven'shur!
--a godlike idea! My son will go to work with this
Jami gai-jin starting tomorrow, to learn barbarian ways and then I will not need Hiraga who represents nothing but trouble to me directly, and so sorry, is doomed. Like we all are, if we are not very clever. "Otami-sama, there are many troop movements around us."
"Eh? What kind of movements?"
"The Bakufu have reinforced the three nearest
Tokaid@o way stations to us. Also, also there are five hundred samurai straddling the roa
d north and south of us." A bead of sweat slid down his cheek. "We are in a box of Tair@o
Anjo."
Hiraga cursed and, too, felt the pressure increase. "What do you hear, shoya?