James Clavell - Gai-Jin

by Gai-Jin(Lit)

  Hiraga was not an assassin but a fighter for freedom and, for himself, he already had seen how useful Hiraga had been. Now he was even more sure how valuable an English-speaking shishi and friend would be in the future, particularly one who had been guided and helped by him--he had prepared a dossier of people to meet in England and Scotland, where to go, what to see that he was going to explain before the ship sailed.

  Phillip's a genius, he chortled, glanced back at him and drew in breath sharply. Behind

  Tyrer he saw the Japanese officer strolling towards their jetty. "My God, the bugger's coming for us!" They gaped at the man, took a quick look at the cutter. No way could she arrive before he did. "We're done for."

  Hiraga had already decided the same. He tore at the kimonos covering their swords.

  "Akimoto, we kill him."

  "Wait! Here!" Urgently Tyrer handed

  Hiraga a large envelope that contained letters of introduction to his father and uncle, also a solicitor, and to the dean of his university. "I was going to explain them on the cutter," he said hurriedly, "no time now, Jamie, you do it for me." He looked at Hiraga deeply a last time and stuck out his hand. "Thanks, I'll always be your friend, come back safely." He felt the strong grip, saw for an instant a smile, then turned and in a cold sweat went to meet the enemy.

  The captain had already covered half the jetty when Tyrer planted himself in the middle of the planks and bowed with great formality. A grunt, the man hesitated, his hand on his long sword, then bowed back. When he tried to pass Tyrer bowed again and said in his best Japanese, deliberately ponderous, "Ah Sir Officer, I want say you how samurai men good fight fire.

  Remembering from Yedo, yes? Please excuse me, on behalf my Master, Head Gai-jin in

  Nippon, accept great thank for help save all houses ours."

  "Yes, thank you, now I want to see th--"

  "See? Look there, Sir Officer!" Tyrer pointed at the town and all around, his Japanese dissolving more and more into gibberish as each time the man tried to walk around him he moved into his path.

  "See what fire h--"

  "Out of the way!" the samurai said angrily, his breath heavy with the stench of daikon, horseradish. "Move!"

  But Tyrer pretended not to understand and flailed his arms to block him, trying to make it appear unintentional and careful not to touch him, saying how awful the devastation was and how well the samurai had performed--Jamie and the others were behind him so he had no way of judging how much time he had, then the officer snarled, "Baka!" he saw his face twist with rage and readied for the blow but at that second he heard Jamie call out, "Cast off, for Christ's sake!" and he was roughly shoved aside as the man ran for the boat.

  Panting, Tyrer picked himself up and, wet with relief, saw the cutter swerving off at full throttle, the other three ducking into the cabin, bosun in the wheelhouse, seaman at the prow, the cabin lights doused the instant the samurai reached the jetty's head, his bellowing shout, calling them back, drowned by the engine. The moment before the lights went out and Hiraga and Akimoto turned their backs, Tyrer thought he saw their faces clearly--if he did the officer must have done.

  "Imagination," Phillip gasped, already hurrying away in the fastest walk possible. He raised his hat to the samurai around the fire who acknowledged him perfunctorily, and by the time he heard the Japanese shout of "You, come here," he was swallowed in the crowd. When it was safe he broke into a trot, and did not begin to breathe until he was safe in the Legation.

  "Good gracious, Phillip," Bertram said, popeyed, "you poor dear, what on earth's the matter?"

  "Oh fuck off," Tyrer said, not over the close call.

  "Why should he do that?" Sir William asked from his office doorway, his face taut and voice harsh.

  "Oh, oh sorry sir, it was... just a pleasantry."

  An irritable grunt greeted that.

  "Phillip, your brains are addled!

  Where the devil have you been? There's a note from the

  Bakufu marked urgent on your desk to translate, a dispatch for Sir Percy to copy that must go with Atlanta Belle tonight, four insurance claims to stamp--I've already signed and approved them. When you've done that come and find me. I'll either be here or at the jetty seeing the passengers off--well don't just stand there!

  Hurry up!"

  Sir William went back into his office and closed his door and leaned against it. Inexorably his eyes went to Andr`e's file neatly centered on his desk. Sadness welled up again.

  When Angelique had left he had hardly moved for an hour or more, trying to decide, desperate to be correct, for truly this was a life and death issue. His mind had wandered into the byways of his own experience: to his boyhood in

  England, to the Paris Desk, to St.

  Petersburg, his house there and the garden and laughing with Vertinskya in spring and summer and autumn and winter, loving her; then back to England again, to missions in the battlefields of the Crimea, and into swirling, smoky dark passages that frightened him.

  He was glad that Phillip's voice had drawn him back to normality. Again his eyes wandered over the room and the fire and to the file, passed that to the lovely young face in the miniature smiling at him. His heart broke as it always did and then repaired itself. A little less each time.

  He went over and picked the miniature up and studied it, every brush stroke already etched on his mind. If I didn't have her portrait, would

  I have forgotten her face as Angelique and her

  Malcolm? "No answer to that one, Vertinskya, my darling," he said sadly, near tears, setting it down again. "Maybe I would--your face--but never you, never never never you."

  And much as he tried to go back to live again the time he had been most alive, Andr`e's file was an iron door between them.

  God damn him!

  Never mind that, make the decision. No more shillyshallying, he ordered himself. Back to work, deal with this problem so you can go on to more important matters like Yoshi and the coming war against Satsuma-- you are Her Britannic Majesty's Minister.

  Act like one!

  The correct and only proper way to deal with Andr`e's file is to seal it, to write a private report that relates what occurred and when, what was said and by whom, then to seal that and send it all to London and let them decide. Lots of secrets in their vaults and archives. If they want it to be secret, that's up to them.

  Good, that's the correct, right and only course.

  Confident he was making the right decision, he gathered the pages and, one by one, fed them to the fire, humming to himself, watching them curl and blacken and burn. This isn't ill-advised.

  They're not positive proof and anyway the poor girl was a victim, Andr`e was a dangerous and active undercover agent for an enemy power and if half the evils listed in his secret dossier are correct, he deserved to go over the moon a dozen times. Truth or lies, in this instance dust is going to dust.

  When it was done he raised his glass to the miniature, feeling very good. "For you, my darling," he said.

  It was getting towards midnight when Tyrer finally hurried out of the Legation and headed for the

  Struan jetty. His head ached like never before, he had had no time for supper, no time to think about

  Hiraga or Fujiko, no time to do anything but work. He carried an official H.m.

  Government dispatch satchel and in his pocket was the translation that he had done last and wished he had done first. His pace quickened.

  The jetty was thronged. A few people were there seeing off the last of the passengers, but most of the men noisily surrounded the Belle's Purser who was accepting last-minute mail for Hong Kong and

  Shanghai Head Offices--insurance agents, suppliers, shippers, banks--anyone and everyone who needed to know about the fire and damage. He saw Angelique chatting with Gornt. On the other side of the crowd Pallidar was talking to some officers who were boarding as passengers, and near the head of the jetty he spotted Sir William in conversation with Maureen Ross. Seein
g her immediately reminded him of Jamie and Hiraga, and of his promise to Jamie to clear the

  "students" with his superior. He eased through the crowd.

  "Evening, Miss Maureen, excuse me

  Sir William, but you might want to see this."

  He handed him the translation. "I'll make sure the dispatches get safe aboard." Quickly he turned away for the Purser, not wanting to stay close at hand for the inevitable explosion. The

  Purser was a short, dyspeptic man and the haphazard queue of men jostling for position around him was still long. Tyrer pushed his way to the head, disregarding the "Wait your bloody turn," saying, "Sorry, Sir William's orders,

  H.m.'s business. A receipt, please."

  "All right, all right, wot's the bloody rush, eh?" While the Purser laboriously entered the shipment in his ledger, Tyrer peeked at

  Sir William who had moved under the oil lamp and was squinting at the paper. While he watched, the face contorted, the lips began to mouth profanities, men nearby backed off in shock, not because of the language but merely because it was so unexpected. He groaned and turned his back.

  The document was from the roju, signed

  Tair@o Nori, curt, without the usual flowery phrases, and addressed impudently,

  To the Leader of the Gai-jin, so he had translated it as best he could in the same fashion, interpolating it where necessary:

  The roju congratulates you and other gai-jin on your escape with your lives and little else from fires started by malcontents and revolutionaries.

  Tomorrow the Kanagawa Governor will send 500 coolies to assist in your evacuation of

  Yokohama in accordance with clear warnings from the gods, and according to wishes of the Emperor given to you many times. When you return, if you return, give us a long warning. Accommodation will be provided for selected gai-jin at Deshima, in the port of Nagasaki, from where, as in the past, all future gai-jin trade and business will be conducted. A cordial communication.

  "Tyrer!"

  He pretended not to hear, kept his back to Sir William and accepted the receipt from the

  Purser, the impatient men in the line calling out with degrees of rudeness, "Hurry up for

  God's sake, do you want all night

  ... hurry, there she is!"

  The empty cutter, returning from the Belle, was docking. Tyrer noticed Jamie was not aboard. The Bosun leaned out of his cabin and bellowed, "All aboard wot's going aboard!"

  In the heightened bustle Maureen joined him.

  "Phillip, when will Jamie be back?"

  "Certainly with the last ferry, if not before," he said, not sure if Jamie had told her of their scheme. "There's an hour or more yet."

  "Tyrer!"

  "Sorry, got to go. Yessir?" he called out, took a deep breath, mentally girding his loins and hurried off.

  "In half an hour, Phillip," Sir

  William began, almost cross-eyed with rage,

  "in half an hour I'll need you to translate a reply for me, extremely bloody accurately indeed."

  "Yes sir, by the way s--"

  "Go and find... ah, there he is, thought I saw him." One look at Sir William's face was enough to cause the crowd to fall silent and part for him instantly, all ears. "Pallidar, get the Dragoons, I want you to deliver a cordial communication to the Kanagawa

  Governor--at once."

  "Tonight, sir?" Pallidar gaped at him, saw the expression on his face and added hastily,

  "Oh! Yessir, sorry sir, right away

  Sir." his'scuse me, Sir William," Tyrer said in a rush before Sir William could leave, "No time to tell you before but I helped two Japanese students aboard who wanted to travel, to visit

  England, they saved my life last night, hope that's all right."

  "That they saved your life? I wonder." The eyes bored into him. "If you've turned travel agent on Her Majesty's time, I suppose there will be a satisfactory answer should I require one. Pallidar, arrive in strength in an hour and deliver my message rather rudely, by God!" He stalked off.

  Pallidar blew his nose, his cold still bad.

  "What the hell's up with him?" Tyrer leaned closer and told him about the ultimatum. "My

  God, no wonder. What bloody cheek!

  Actually it's bloody good, now there'll be some action, all this hanging around inflames the General's neck along with his piles." He laughed, more from nervousness than the old chestnut.

  At that moment, Hoag arrived puffing, still wearing his operating frock coat, the sleeves and chest stiff with ancient blood, and burdened with top hat, suitcases and packages. "I thought I was going to be late. What's the joke?"

  "You've plenty of time," Tyrer said and, with

  Pallidar, wondered what was in Angelique's letter that Sir William had witnessed, and Hoag carried to Hong Kong in reply to the letter, also still a mystery, given to Angelique when Hoag was sure she was not bearing Malcolm's child. Since the first day Hoag had arrived back, the outlines of

  Tess's ultimatum were common knowledge and the subject of heated, private debate. "Hope you have a safe trip. It's India next, isn't it?"

  "Yes, I'll be there next month." The ugly face split with a smile. "Can't wait, come and visit me, you'll love it."

  Pallidar said, "India's my next posting, in fact I've just been told, the Frontier,

  Hindu Kush, Khyber Pass."

  Though he spoke lightly Pallidar secretly hated the idea. Too many deaths in that special hell, too many killings, a bullet from nowhere, a dagger out of the night, wells poisoned, no glory there, only slog and kill and try to stay alive in that barren, festering rock landscape where nothing grew but death. And yet vital to the Empire, for there lay the historic invasion route to British India, for Mongol,

  Persian, or Russian hordes. A sick premonition swept through him and he could not resist adding, "No sea burials there, Doc."

  "No, none, not at all," Hoag replied and, misreading him, put a warm, friendly arm on him. "You're a good fellow, Settry, if I can help in India I'm easy to find. You'll love it, good luck!" He strode off to greet

  Angelique and Gornt.

  "What was that about?" Tyrer asked. He had noticed the sudden change in Pallidar.

  Pallidar shrugged, cursing his anxiety and lapse and abrupt envy of Hoag. "Doc

  Hoag told me he doesn't like sea burials, said he was glad to miss Malcolm's in Hong Kong." He smiled crookedly. After he had reported to Sir William about

  Hoag's curious behavior over the coffins at Kanagawa that the Sergeant had witnessed, on instructions and sworn to secrecy, unobserved he had switched the coffins after checking them. No difference between them that he could see. So the coffin sent by Prancing Cloud to Hong Kong had contained Malcolm Struan and the one Hoag,

  Angelique, Jamie and Skye had buried was that of the villager, as Sir William had ordered.

  "Pity Malcolm got chopped," he said, his voice raw. "Life's curious, eh? You never know when it'll happen."

  Tyrer nodded, Pallidar's depression unusual. Liking him, his own guard slid away. "What's up, old man?"

  "Nothing. You were bloody lucky last night, weren't you, getting out of--"

  Shadows rushed over Tyrer's face and

  Pallidar swore at himself for his stupidity.

  "Sorry, Phillip. Didn't mean to upset you, don't know what's got into me tonight."

  "You heard about... about..."

  For the life of him Tyrer could not say

  Fujiko's name, his grief scalding, driving him down in quantum depths where he had never been before. His mouth said, trying to sound brave, "When something like that, something awful happens, my Old

  Man used to... I had a sister who got measles and died when she was seven, such a pretty little girl we all loved... my Old Man always used to say, "These things are sent to try us.

  You cry and cry and... and you pick yourself up and say it was God's will and try not to hate Him.""

  He felt the tears running down his cheeks and did not care
. His feet took him away down to the shore and there, alone with the surf and the sky and the night, he thought about Fujiko truly, remembering her with all his passion, then put her into a little box and put the box safe beside his heart.

  Aboard Atlanta Belle Captain

  Twomast was saying, "All right, Jamie,

  I'll give them passage, whatever Mrs.

  Struan decides, but you know her, she's not given to largess."