by Gai-Jin(Lit)
Is he planning to attack us here?"
"I wish I knew, Otami-sama. Perhaps telling the Taira about the troops might help to find out what the gai-jin plan."
"They'll bombard Yedo, any fool knows that." Hiraga felt sickened at the thought of the inevitable gai-jin victory though it would serve sonno-joi like nothing else. "There's nothing the tair@o can do to prevent..." His heart skipped a beat and he stopped.
"Except, Otami-sama?"
"Except history's answer, the usual answer: a sudden, brutal, surprise attack to destroy the fleet's base." Hiraga was astonished he had shared his thought, and been so open with such a lowly person, even though the shoya was intelligent, a valuable ally, and soon to be a business partner.
Eeee, he told himself through the throbbing of his headache, there's so much I do not understand, the world is turning upside down, everything different, I am different, no longer samurai yet totally samurai. It is these filthy gai-jin with their tempting, sickening, awesome, greed-making ideas.
They must be thrown out--sonno-joi sonno-joi sonno-joi--but not yet. First massu produk'shun, the first to make rifles.
"Shoya, send out all spies in case that is
Anjo's plan."
"Spies, Otami-sama?"
Hiraga said, "The time is now to stop playing games. Shoya. You understand? No-more-games!"
"I obey in everything, Otami-sama. As usual, as I ha--"
"You did very well tonight, shoya. The moment you hear anything about Yoshi or shishi, send me word, please." Hiraga added the "please" as a major concession.
"As quick as a hunting sea bird, Sire."
"Good night then--ah, so sorry, I forgot, there is the gai-jin's fee. He asked me to remind you."
The shoya's stomach turned over. From his sleeve he extracted a small bag--it would have been very bad manners to give it to Jami-sama direct. "Here is the equal in gold oban for one and a half koku, Otami-sama, the rest in ten days."
Hiraga shrugged and casually put it in his own sleeve, but the weight of it and the joy of it astonished him. "I will tell him, and see he is here in three days."
"Thank you, Otami-sama. These troop movements, terribly worrisome. War is coming.
My Masters say if they could have advance warning of gai-jin plans... they would appreciate deeply any help. Perhaps your Taira-sama
..." Hopefully, he left the name hanging.
Another message from Head Office in
Osaka had arrived today, more urgent than the last.
As if I cannot read? the shoya thought angrily, as if I'm uncaring and disloyal. I do everything I can. It is those two cursed mama-sans. Two days and still nothing from them!
Before he had left Raiko and Meikin he had impressed on them his urgent need to know everything they knew, or could find out, quickly. His anger began to increase, not only because the two women had pretended to know nothing however much he cajoled them, even though he was sure that they already had an inkling, but also because his precious gold oban were in this rapacious samurai's sleeve, fees, however well earned for an equally rapacious gai-jin.
And where will all my lovely oban end up? Of course in some whore's Golden Gully.
"Thank you so much, Otami-sama," the shoya said unctuously, as Hiraga left, keeping his head on his tatami to hide the gnashing of his few remaining broken teeth, wanting to humble
Hiraga, make him sweat, telling him, not sorry at all: oh so sorry, your late whore
Koiko was implicated in the plot, so was your trained female assassin and wife-to-be
Sumomo who had her head chopped off too, and your shishi supporter Meikin, mama-san to the most important men in Yedo--even
Gyokoyama leaders--is not long for this earth because we surmise Yoshi knows all this too.
And though you're the cleverest samurai I've known, you're doomed doomed doomed, and yet my illustrious superiors expect me to treat you as a National Treasure and keep you alive as well. Oh ko!
Tonight I shall get drunk, but not before congratulating myself on the imminent formation of the
Ryoshi Joint-u Ven'shur Stoku
Kompeni! Eeee, an idea worthy of gods!
Walking home, Jamie McFay loosened his top coat though the evening air was cold. He was warm. The knowledge gained was substantial and his concentration had driven away his cares. All very interesting, he thought, but neither of those two have any idea of the initial costs of mass production.
And yet the way Nakama said Gyokoyama could buy and sell Yedo if they wanted, for the moment
I really believed it. The shoya will go for a joint venture, I'm sure of it.
His step was brisk and he greeted others walking the High Street and went up the Struan steps, into his domain. It's mine again, he thought, with pride. Perhaps Tess will change her mind now--she's no fool and I've done a good job.
Vargas was waiting.
"Evening, Vargas, time to lock up?"
"Yes, but first, senhor, sorry, but these came in yesterday's mail but, somehow, were in my In tray."
Both letters were marked Personal and
Confidential and addressed to him. The first was in
Tess Struan's writing. His stomach heaved.
The other was from Maureen Ross, his er/while fianc@ee. His unease doubled. "Thanks," he said. In spite of his resolve to wait, he could not and tore Tess's letter open. This is to inform you formally that Mr. Albert MacStruan is transferred from Shanghai, arriving by steamer,
Wayfong, on the 17th. Please acquaint him with all Japanese operations. Subject to your noncompliance with previous letters he assumes control at the end of December.
His dismissal from the Noble House, now that it was in effect, did not anger him as he expected.
In fact he was relieved. Weird, just a few moments ago I thought it was my...
He looked up at Vargas who was watching narrowly. "What else, Vargas?" He folded the letter and put it on his desk with the other one.
"Mrs. Angelique is in the tai-pan's office. She asked if you could you see her for a moment?"
"What's up now?"
"Nothing that I know of, senhor, the evening has been peaceful. A message arrived from your
Nemi, asking if you would be visiting later. One small other matter, Captain Strongbow again asked for sailing orders. Again I told him to be patient. It will be on the evening tide?"
"Yes. I think so. Send word to Nemi:
Perhaps."
"At once, senhor. Then it's decided? The tai-pan's remains will go with Cloud? And of course the Senhora?"
"Either by clipper, or the mail ship, one or the other," he said, walked along the corridor, knocked and went in.
She was curled in Malcolm's chair, which
Jamie was coming to think of as her own, reading the
Guardian by oil light. "Hello, Jamie."
"Evening. I've decided to go with you and the mail ship," he tried unsuccessfully not to sound blunt, "it's my job to explain to Tess
Struan." Having said it, he felt better.
"It's my job and I think Mal--I think he would like me to do that, and it might spare you a little."
"Yes," she said with her sweet smile,
"I'm sure he would. Close the door,
Jamie, and sit down a moment." When he had obeyed, she dropped her voice and told him
Hoag's plan. "Can you bring the cutter to Kanagawa with the rest of us tomorrow evening?"
He was staring at her stupidly, completely off guard. "You're crazy. That plan's crazy."
"No, not at all. Dr. Hoag thinks..."
"He's over the moon too--you'd never get away with it."
"Why?" she asked calmly.
"Fifty reasons," he said. "So many reasons I'm not even going to mention any. Whole idea's ludicrous, insane, Willie will have you in irons."
"There's no law against what we would be doing,
Mr. Skye says. The burial would be quite legal, he says."
"Mr. Bloody Know-al
l says that, eh? And what else's Heavenly going to do," he asked,
"put his collar on backwards and read the bloody service?"
"Mr. Skye believes we can persuade the
Reverend Tweet to do that," she said as though he were a child in a tantrum.
He threw up his hands. "You're both crazy and Hoag is stupid, off his head to have suggested it. We'll leave on the mail ship, you, me, and him." He stalked for the door.
"Jamie, can you handle the cutter by yourself or will we need a crew?" He turned back and stared at her. She smiled, determined, but nicely so.
"Would we need a crew?"
"Two men at least. Bosun, and engineer at least."
"Thank you. If you don't wish to help, may
I ask the Bosun, yes?"
"I can't seem to get through to you. This idea is foolhardy, extremely foolhardy."
She nodded ruefully. "You're probably right and we won't be able to do it, but I'm going to try, and then try again. I can't seem to get through to you either, dearest Jamie. I promised to love honor and obey my husband and your friend, he was your friend, and I don't feel parted from him, not yet, nor do you. Tess Struan won't give him his wish, will she?"
All the time he had been looking down at her, not seeing her and at the same time seeing every detail of her, remembering all the years of Tess
Struan and what she and Culum Struan had meant to him, and Malcolm Struan had meant and
Dirk Struan had meant and the Noble House had meant. All gone and all wasted and all at an end, our Noble House no longer noble, no longer first in Asia. Well, not quite wasted and not quite over but its glory's gone and my friend's dead and that's a fact. I was his friend, but was he mine? God
Above, what we do in the name of friendship.
He said, "Tess wouldn't bury him as he wanted. I suppose that's the least a friend could do.
I'll arrange the cutter."
He walked out. In the gathering quiet of the room she sighed, picked up the paper and, once more, began to read.
That night, when Dr. Hoag arrived at the
Kanagawa Legation, part of the Buddhist temple, Towery, the Sergeant-in-charge, smart in his Guards uniform, tall hat, scarlet tunic, white trousers and black boots, met him. "Didn't expect you till morning,
Doc."
"I just have to make sure everything's ready. We want an early start."
Escorting him to the part of the temple used as a morgue Towery laughed. "If you left him ready, Doc, he's ready 'cause he ain't about to've gone walkies." He opened the door. The room was large, with a dirt floor and access to the grounds through shutter doors. Towery sniffed the air. "They don't niff yet. Never did like corpses. You want a hand?"
"No, thank you." Two empty coffins were on trestles, lids beside them, others standing upright against the wall. The bodies were on marble slabs covered with sheets. At the far end were big barrels containing ice. Water seeped from them, discoloring the beaten earth floor. "What about the native? How long we've to keep him?"
"Tomorrow." Hoag felt faint, suddenly realizing, by custom, the body would be claimed for cremation according to Shinto ritual but now there would be no body...
"Wot's up, Doc?"
"Nothing, just a... thank you, Sergeant." His heart started again as he remembered the man was
Korean, one of some shipwrecked fishermen who eked out a pathetic existence, no way to sail home, unwanted and despised by locals.
Babcott had agreed to have the body cremated in the Buddhist crematorium. "Actually, you could help, Sergeant."
Malcolm's corpse had been cleaned and dressed after the autopsy by their Japanese trainee assistants. With the help of the Sergeant, who took the feet, they placed him in the coffin.
"He looks right pretty for a corpse."
Malcolm's face was serene in death. "Let's do t'other one, Doc. No need t'give yourself a hernia, eh, not that this little bugger weighs but a stone or two."
"We'd better wrap him in his sheet."
The Korean was skin and bones. Dysentery had killed him. Together they put him into the coffin.
"Thanks, I'll just tidy things up, then turn in."
"All right Doc. I'll make sure your room's ready."
Once alone Hoag bolted the door. With
Angelique's agreement, they had decided that there would be no traditional laying-out, with the coffin open for people to pay last respects to the dead man.
With care he slid the lid into place. It took no time to nail it tight.
Now the other one. There would be a great difference in weight. What to use? Earth. There was a shovel belonging to the gravediggers to one side--not every body was cremated. Outside the earth was soft, the night cold with a slight wind that rustled the vegetation. He dug swiftly and brought shovelfuls back, scattering the earth on and around the corpse, packing it tightly. A few branches filled up the gaps. Satisfied, he levered on the lid and hammered the nails in. He leaned against the coffin, his breathing heavy, sweaty and dirty and even more concerned than when he started.
Heavenly's right, he thought, washing his hands in a bucket. We'll never get away with it.
"You're off your rocker, Doc," Skye had said with his wheezing cough, "and so is she and so am I to say all right, I'm in. Wee
Willie will have kittens but never mind, tomorrow night it is." This was in the Club a few hours ago, noisy and argumentative as always. "Have another whisky."
"I'll have a coffee, thanks, then I'd better be off."
"Her story reminded me of my Nellie,
Doc. Married I was when I was an articled clerk, sixteen, she was fifteen, at least we pretended we were married and lived in a garret off
Fleet Street, near the Old Cheshire
Cheese Pub, Sam Johnson's place.
She died in childbirth and the nipper, he would have been a boy, he died too." He offered a cigar and lit one for himself. "Pauper's grave, a couple of pence to the nightly barrow, Bring Out your dead, and that was the last of them. Cholera was bad that year, dysentery too, cemeteries full to overflowing." Heavenly spat in the spittoon.
"Haven't thought of little Nellie for years. You been married, Doc?"'
"Yes, once, she died in London too."
"Another coincidence, eh? Never felt like getting married after Nellie--swore I'd not be that poor again no matter what--always on the go, travelling too much. Had lots of girls but never did get the pox. Did you, Doc?"'
"No." Hoag had crossed his fingers.
"Not yet."
"Hey, you're superstitious too, like me?"'
"Yes. You're sure of our legal position in this?"'
"As sure as can be, sure as shit--but if
Wee Willie wants he can trump up a dozen charges, never fear. Listen, whatever happens, Tess Struan will bust her knickers and that's your stipend gone and you into the creek without a paddle."
"No. I'm going back to India..."
Strange how bad leads to good or good to bad.
All this has really decided me. I really am going back this time, going back to Cooch Behar in
Bengal where I was stationed and where she came from.
I'm going to find her family and... and then we'll see. I've enough cash for that and a few years left, our son and daughter are grown up now, part of the tapestry of London, educated as best
I could, paid for as best I could, my sister and her husband their real parents--both sterling and the stuff of
England.
I'm a good doctor and God knows they need doctors in India, even bad ones, so who knows, maybe I can find some happiness... I don't even expect that, just some peace from the full-blooded horror of the killing of her.
Tired now he studied the two coffins. A last look to check that everything was as it should be.
Taking the oil lamp, he went out, bolting the door after him.
A baleful moon cast a shadow through the open windows. Silently another shadow moved.
Sergeant Towery p
eered into the morgue. He was puzzled. Why should Doc Hoag arrive in the dead of night, and then why dig in the garden like a foul grave robber to pack the dead native's coffin with earth?
Curiosity killed the cat, me lad, but not