Killigrew and the Golden Dragon

by Jonathan Lunn

  ‘Fine. How’s that leg of yours?’

  ‘Not too bad. It only needed a couple of stitches. I said it was just a scratch, didn’t I? Well, what can I do for you?’

  ‘I’d like to question the Triad who was arrested last night, see if we can get him to tell us where Zhai Jing-mu’s base is.’

  ‘Forget it. I’ve been questioning him all morning. He’s not saying anything. Some damned fool told him his rights.’

  ‘Perhaps you haven’t been asking him nicely enough.’

  ‘You think you might be able to get something out of him?’

  ‘I have my methods, Mr Cargill.’

  The police officer looked shocked. ‘Mr Killigrew, I hope you’re not proposing to torture him?’

  Killigrew opened his holdall so that Cargill could see inside. ‘I think this should do the trick.’

  Cargill blanched. ‘Good God, man! You’re not serious, are you?’

  ‘I’m in deadly earnest, Mr Cargill. You know the Chinese say that if you save a man’s life, you’re responsible for his actions thereafter?’ Cargill nodded. ‘By letting Zhai Jing-mu get away last night, I saved his life. If he attacks one more clipper before we can get to him, it will be on my head.’

  ‘Our heads, Mr Killigrew. I was there too, remember? All right, we’ll have a stab at it.’

  They made their way to the gaol. A coolie was still washing the blood off the floor. Cargill showed Killigrew down to the cells where the sole prisoner glared at them sullenly. The assistant superintendent turned to two of his men. ‘All right, let’s be having him. Clap a pair of darbies on him, Constable. Knowing our luck, he’ll probably turn out to be another wu-yi expert.’

  The prisoner was dragged up to one of the offices and seated in a chair behind the desk. Cargill told the two constables to stand on guard outside, and then closed the door. ‘Let’s get it over with. I can’t say I relish doing this to a prisoner, Triad or otherwise.’

  ‘Ruthless men require ruthless methods,’ Killigrew said firmly, and sat down opposite the Triad. ‘Speakee English?’

  ‘My no makee-tellee nothing, fan-kwae!’ spat the prisoner.

  ‘Oh, but I think you will,’ Killigrew said with soft menace. The Triad’s eyes widened in apprehension when the lieutenant opened his holdall. Then Killigrew placed a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler on the table between them. ‘Care for a drink?’

  * * *

  ‘You my number-one frien’,’ slurred the Triad. ‘What you wantchee savvy? I tellee you alia.’

  ‘You might start by letting me know where I can find Zhai Jing-mu,’ said Killigrew.

  ‘Whiskey finishee, Missee Killigrew.’ The prisoner held out his tumbler in his shackled hands.

  Killigrew sighed and reached for the bottle.

  ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ asked Cargill. ‘He looks like he’s had enough to me.’

  ‘I think we’re getting close.’ Killigrew topped up the prisoner’s tumbler. ‘Chin-chin.’

  ‘Chin-chin.’ The prisoner knocked it back in one and gasped with pleasure. ‘How-how-ah!’

  Cargill looked at his watch.

  ‘My b’long Triad no longer. They makee-tellee barbarian bad, but you no bad, Missee Killigrew, you my number-one frien’.’

  ‘Friends shouldn’t have secrets from one another, should they, Chan?’

  The prisoner shook his head woozily. Cargill had to move quickly to stop him from falling out of his chair. When he had propped up Chan, he glanced at his watch again.

  ‘So, where can I find Zhai Jing-mu?’

  ‘So sorry, Missee Killigrew. No can tellee. My tellee you where catchee Zhai Jing-mu, Triad spilum Chan.’ He was clearly terrified the Triads would murder him if he betrayed them.

  ‘Yes, but if you don’t tell us, you see, you’ll be put on trial, found guilty and be hanged. If you help us, on the other hand, we can protect you.’

  Chan held out the tumbler once more. ‘Whiskey finishee, Missee Killigrew.’

  There was a knock at the door. Cargill opened it and stepped outside to take a message.

  ‘Now look, Chan, you’re not such a bad fellow,’ persevered Killigrew. ‘All right, so you’ve been a Triad. But the way I understand it, some Triads are traitors, others are no worse than Chartists. You were led astray, that’s all.’

  ‘What Chartist?’

  ‘Never mind. You don’t want to be executed because of Zhai Jing-mu, do you?’

  ‘Zhai Jing-mu number-one hero to Han people. Him givee Manchu plenty trub.’

  ‘He’s a pirate, Chan, a common thief and a murderer. However much the Triads may try to make a hero out of him, he’s only interested in himself. I’ve even heard that he’s offered to become an imperial admiral, and to sweep all the other pilongs from the seas, in return for amnesty for all his past crimes. Is that true, Chan?’

  ‘Hai. Is true. Zhai Jing-mu scarum Manchu so muchee, they wantchee makee agree.’

  ‘And where will that leave the rest of you?’

  Chan gazed into his tumbler and said nothing.

  ‘You see, Chan? Zhai Jing-mu doesn’t care about the Han people. He’d make a covenant with the Devil as quickly as with the Manchus, if it was to his profit. And if that means selling you and your friends down the river, he doesn’t care one jot. Are you really willing to die to protect such a man?’

  ‘What river?’ asked Chan.

  The door opened and Cargill stuck his head through, his face grim. ‘Can I have a word?’

  Killigrew nodded and stepped outside, leaving a delighted Chan to help himself to more whiskey. In the corridor, Killigrew closed the door behind him. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Cargill jerked his head at the door. ‘Has he told you anything yet?’

  ‘Not yet, but I think he’s ready to talk…’

  A crash sounded on the other side of the door. The two of them burst through to find that Chan had fallen from the chair and was fast asleep on the floor, snoring.

  Killigrew sighed.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Cargill. ‘It was a nice idea.’

  ‘When he wakes up, he’s going to have a number-one headache. Don’t let him have anything to drink – not even a sip of water – until he talks.’

  ‘By George, Killigrew! You really are a ruthless bastard, aren’t you?’ Cargill said admiringly.

  ‘You were going to tell me something?’

  The assistant superintendent’s face became grim. ‘It’s bad news, Killigrew. Lieutenant Dwyer. He’s been murdered.’

  Killigrew stared at him. ‘Murdered? By whom?’

  ‘We don’t know. His body was found alongside that of Captain d’Acosta at a place called Wong-ma-kok on the south side of the island.’ Cargill gripped his upper arm. ‘They cut off their heads, Killigrew. Those swines butchered them. They were only identified by their uniforms and the papers they were carrying on them.’

  Killigrew shook his head in disbelief. It had only been that very morning that he had breakfasted with Dwyer. Then he remembered something. ‘Did Dwyer have a letter on him?’

  ‘A letter? What sort of letter?’

  ‘I was with Dwyer at the Hong Kong Club this morning when he received a letter. He seemed fairly excited by it. Then he left suddenly, saying something about an appointment. If you can find that letter, there’s a chance it will lead you to his murderer.’

  ‘It’s a slim chance,’ said Cargill. ‘But it’s worth looking into.’

  Another, grimmer thought struck Killigrew, and he suddenly felt chilled. ‘What’s the date today?’

  ‘The twenty-fifth of February. What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘No, I mean, in the Chinese calendar?’

  ‘Let me see… the year of the Rooster, the rabbit moon…’ He counted on his fingers: ‘One, two, three… the sixth day of the rabbit moon.’ He looked up at Killigrew in horror. ‘Oh Christ!’

  * * *

  The Sikh butler who opened the door of the Framjee res
idence peered at Killigrew disdainfully. ‘Yes, sahib? May I help you?’

  ‘I need to see Miss Dadabhoy.’

  ‘If you’ll give me your card, sahib, I’ll see if she is in.’

  Killigrew pushed him aside. ‘This isn’t a social call, damn your eyes, this is an emergency. Her life’s in danger.’ He strode across the marble-floored hall. ‘Peri? Peri!’ He checked the parlour and the drawing room, but both were deserted. The butler tried to grab him, but he pulled free and ran for the stairs. ‘Peri!’

  Framjee emerged from a door on the landing and leaned on the banister. ‘Mr Killigrew! What in the world is going on?’

  ‘I am sorry, sir,’ said the butler. ‘I tried to stop him, but he pushed past me and—’

  Framjee made a calming gesture. ‘That is all right, Gobinda.’ He met Killigrew at the top of the stairs. ‘Mr Killigrew, what is the meaning of this?’

  ‘Where’s your daughter, sir?’

  ‘In the garden, I should imagine. Why? Whatever can the matter be?’ Killigrew ran halfway back down the stairs before taking a shortcut by vaulting over the banisters. He ran into the ballroom and out through the French windows on to the terrace where he found Peri relaxing on a swing-seat with Tennyson’s The Lady of Shallot.

  ‘Kit! You are early.’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, of course…’

  He pulled her off the seat and into his arms. He kissed her and held her close. ‘Thank God! Thank God!’

  Framjee emerged on to the terrace followed by the butler. ‘Mr Killigrew! I demand an explanation.’

  The lieutenant released Peri and turned to her father. ‘Your daughter must leave Hong Kong, sir. Now. Do you have any ships bound for Bombay in the harbour?’

  ‘The Akhandata is in the Cap-sing-mun anchorage… but I cannot just send my daughter away at a moment’s notice.’

  Killigrew gripped him by the shoulders. ‘Sir, please believe me, your daughter is in deadly danger.’

  ‘Mr Killigrew, please!’

  ‘When the Tisiphone first moored in the harbour and I handed Zhai Jing-mu over to Assistant Superintendent Cargill and Lieutenant Dwyer, he said something about him being free and the rest of us being dead before the end of the first week in the rabbit moon. Well, today is the sixth day in the rabbit moon. And Zhai Jing-mu escaped last night.’

  Framjee nodded impatiently. ‘I heard all about the gaolbreak. But if Zhai Jing-mu escaped only last night, surely he will be lying low? The last thing he will want to do is risk recapture by seeking to fulfil some threat he made.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. Until I learned Lieutenant Dwyer was murdered this morning.’

  Framjee’s face turned ashen.

  ‘Zhai Jing-mu may be in hiding now, but he has plenty of friends,’ continued Killigrew. ‘The Triads, for one. Sir, your daughter was included in his threat. If it hadn’t been for her, he might still have escaped that day he attacked the clipper. They’ve already got one of us, they’ll be coming after the rest. They’ve got less than thirty hours to make good his threat, but I’m convinced they’ll try.’

  Framjee nodded. ‘Peri, go up to your room and pack for a voyage back to Bombay.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘Go with her, Gobinda,’ Killigrew told the butler. Gobinda nodded and followed Peri inside. ‘Can you trust the crew of the Akhandata?’ Killigrew asked Framjee.

  ‘Implicitly, Mr Killigrew. Once she is on board, she will be safe.’

  ‘What if the pilongs try to stop her before she gets to Bombay?’

  ‘They can try. But at this time of year the monsoon winds will be behind the clipper all the way to Singapore. There is not a ship in the world which can catch the Akhandata when she has a following wind, Mr Killigrew, not even one of your steamers.’

  ‘All right. I’ll escort your daughter to the anchorage and see her safely on board. Have you got any guns? I’m afraid I came out unarmed.’

  ‘I keep my shotguns in a cabinet in the billiards room.’

  ‘I’ll fetch them. Tell your coachman to prepare your carriage. As soon as Peri’s ready, we’ll leave. If we can stay one step ahead of the pilongs, there’s every chance we can beat them.’

  Killigrew made his way to the billiards room. The gun cabinet was locked, but under the circumstances he had no qualms about breaking it open with a billiards cue. Ammunition was in a drawer below. He loaded and primed two double-barrelled sporting guns and stuffed his pockets with cartridges.

  When he emerged into the hallway, Peri was already coming down the stairs while behind her two footmen carried a trunk between them. ‘Put that on the carriage,’ Framjee told them. ‘Do not worry, my dear,’ he added to his daughter. ‘Gobinda will go with you to Bombay, to protect you.’

  ‘Know how to use one of these things?’ Killigrew asked the butler, holding up one of the shotguns.

  Gobinda stood erect. ‘I was a havildar in the Twenty-First Bengal Native Infantry.’

  Killigrew tossed him one of the shotguns. Gobinda caught it by the barrel in one hand and checked that it was loaded. They went outside and the butler climbed on to the roof of the carriage to sit beside the coachman while Killigrew, Framjee and Peri rode inside.

  ‘Are all these guns really necessary?’ asked Peri.

  ‘Just a precaution,’ said Killigrew. He sat facing forwards, peering out of the side window in the hope of spotting any trouble ahead before it was too late. The trip to the harbour was the most dangerous time; once they were on board the Akhandata they would be safe.

  They reached Framjee’s trading factory without incident and the carriage drove unchallenged past the guards into the compound. ‘Close the gates!’ ordered Framjee. There was no sign of the genial, humble Parsi now: here was a man who could think and act in the same breath, the man who had built up a business empire worth hundreds of thousands of rupees. The guards stood aside as he led the way. The back of the factory overhung the waterfront, and a thirty-four foot side-wheel steam-pinnace was tied up there. A white sailor with a silk neckerchief was polishing the engine. As Framjee stepped out on to the stage, the sailor stood to attention.

  ‘How soon can you get steam up, Mr Endicott?’

  ‘Fifteen minutes, sir.’ Endicott was a Liverpudlian by his accent, with lank, straw-coloured hair slicked to his head with a centre parting.

  ‘Get on with it, then.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir.’

  ‘Put the trunk in the pinnace,’ Framjee ordered the flunkeys, and marched back into the factory. ‘I shall write a letter for the captain of the Akhandata,’ he explained to Killigrew. ‘He will know what to do.’

  The Parsi disappeared into an office and left Peri seated on a bench in the corridor with Killigrew. ‘You’re going to be all right,’ he told her. ‘Don’t worry, Peri, it won’t be for long. By the time you reach Bombay, I expect your father will be writing to tell you we’ve got the whole thing cleared up and it’s safe for you to come home.’

  ‘You will not be coming with me?’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t go absent without leave. I have my duties to attend to. And those include dealing with Zhai Jing-mu.’

  As she looked up at him, her round eyes moist with tears, he was tempted to ask her to marry him there and then. But that would not have been fair: she had too much on her mind; the last thing she needed to worry about now was a marriage proposal. He kissed her instead and she held him close.

  ‘I’m frightened, Kit.’

  ‘Don’t worry, everything’s going to be just fine.’

  He heard a cough behind him and broke off the embrace to find Framjee standing over him. Killigrew rose to his feet but made no attempt to apologise.

  ‘Give this to the captain of the Akhandata,’ ordered Framjee, holding out an envelope. Killigrew nodded and slipped the letter inside his jacket.

  ‘Are you sure you will not come, Father?’ asked Peri, as they made their way out on to the landing stage. ‘
I shall miss you.’

  Framjee shook his head. ‘I have to stay here and run the company. Do not worry, my dear, I shall be perfectly safe. The pilongs would never assassinate me. That would be killing the goose that lays the golden eggs. Is that not so, Mr Killigrew?’

  ‘That’s more or less the long and the short of it, sir.’

  Peri nodded and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘All right, Kit. I am ready now.’

  Killigrew handed her down into the steam-pinnace where Gobinda already waited with the trunk. Then he untied the painter and jumped down after them. She waved her handkerchief at her father – already a forlorn figure without the company of his daughter – while Endicott opened the valve which engaged the steam engine, a miniature version of the kind on the Tisiphone. It hissed and rattled into life, and the paddle-wheels drove the pinnace westwards across the harbour.

  ‘Give those other vessels a wide berth,’ Killigrew told Endicott, indicating Admiral Huang’s junk and a couple of sampans moored in mid-harbour. If there were Triads on board either vessel, they might try to take a pot shot at himself or Peri with a gingall. Endicott nodded and adjusted the tiller with a wink at Peri. She did not notice.

  ‘Have you been working for Framjee and Co. long?’ asked Killigrew. Endicott glanced up. ‘Me, sir? Nah. Only a few months. I used to work for Grafton, Bannatyne and Co., until I got my walking papers.’

  They chugged past Stonecutters Island at the mouth of the harbour. Five miles away, the jagged spine of Lan-tao Island rose up through the haze which hung above the sea. Endicott adjusted the tiller and the pinnace headed for the Cap-sing-mun Passage between Lan-tao Island and the mainland. It was a pleasantly mild day, and as Killigrew sat beside Endicott in the stern he lit a cheroot, but he could not relax. It was dangerous to underestimate the Triads, and he knew Peri would not be safe until the Akhandata was underway. Even this close to Hong Kong, the Triads and pilongs would not hesitate to try something. The question was, what? He kept his eyes on the shore and on the other vessels that passed him: smug boats, sampans, and lorchas bustling between Cap-sing-mun and Hong Kong.

  It took them the best part of an hour to reach the passage. Lan-tao was about eleven miles long, the north-eastern tip about a mile from the mainland, but the passage was divided in two by the islet of Ma Wan. As they passed through on the south side of the islet, the steep shore seemed to loom over them menacingly. But it was just Killigrew’s imagination, and a few moments later they rounded the northern tip of Lan-tao and entered the Cap-sing-mun anchorage.