The Soul Eater

by Mike Resnick

  “Please continue,” he said, slurping his soup.

  “Near as I can make out, he plans to steal the Empire Emerald around midnight tomorrow.”

  “Ah, so.”

  “Not only that,” I added. “But he plans to make it look like I stole it, and while you're busy arresting me he's going to plant it on one of your sons.”

  “Very interesting,” he said with no show of interest whatsoever.

  “Well, that's it. I'm done now, right?” I said.

  “I mean, you'll be waiting for him at the museum, and I can go off converting all you godless yellow heathen—no offense intended—and maybe build my tabernacle.”

  “Not that easy,” said Wong.

  “Why not?” I demanded.

  “Cannot make omelet without breaking eggs.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “So sorry,” he said. “Wrong proverb.” He paused and tried again. “Beauty only skin deep.”

  “Well, that explains everything,” I said.

  “Cannot capture Mr. Rupert Cornwall at museum where emerald reside,” continued Wong as he finished his soup.

  “I already told you what time he's going to show up.”

  "He will not steal emerald. He will have underling do so. I do not want little fish while big fish lead horse to water but cannot make him drink.”

  “So what do you plan to do?”

  “Mr. Rupert Cornwall expect me to arrest you. I will not disappoint him.”

  “That may not disappoint him” I said, “but it'll disappoint the hell out of me.”

  He shook his head. “Just go through motions. Then catch him when he try to plant emerald on honorable son.”

  “What if he has a henchman do that, too?” I asked.

  “Almost certainly will. After all, home is where heart is.”

  “I don't think you understand me, Brother Wong,” I said. “What's the difference if you catch a henchman stealing the emerald or you catch one planting it on your kid?”

  “Much easier to trace emerald back to Mr. Rupert Cornwall after he has stolen it than before,” explained Wong.

  “And what happens to me?” I asked.

  “We arrest you with much fanfare in afternoon, release you when we apprehend henchman that night.”

  Then a particularly bothersome thought occurred to me.

  “What if he changes his mind and decides to keep the emerald?”

  “Then you have lied to me, I take full credit for capturing you, city give another medal to humble detective, and I apprehend Mr. Rupert Cornwall some other day.” He smiled. “You see, either way it all work out.”

  Well, I could see it all working out for Willie Wong and Rupert Cornwall a lot easier than it all working out for me, so me and the Lord decided that it was time to take matters into our own hands, and what we did was this: I went out shopping at a bunch of costume jewelry stores, and when I finally came to a fake emerald about the size of the lump of coal I was toting around in the little cloth bag, I bought it for twenty pounds and tucked it away in my pocket.

  Then I went over to Bonham Road and visited the Fung Ping Shan Museum a day early, found the Empire Emerald, and tried to figure out how to substitute my stone for the real one, but since I'm a God-fearing Christian missionary who ain't never had an illegal impulse in my life, I finally had to admit that while the trip wires and the lock on the front door wouldn't give me no problems, the alarm built into the case was a type I hadn't seen before and there was just no way I was going to be able to switch the emeralds without setting it off and waking up such dead as weren't otherwise occupied at the time.

  One thing I did notice, though, was that the guards were Brits and not Chinamen, so I waited until they locked up the museum and followed one of them home. I got his name off the mailbox, and early the next morning, right after he'd left for work, I called his wife and told her that my shop had inadvertently ruined her husband's tuxedo, but that we would be happy to make amends. She explained that he didn't have a tuxedo, and I told her I was sure it was his but just to make doubly certain I needed to know the name of the establishment she did her business with, and as soon as she told me I popped over there and informed them I was a visiting relative who had been sent by to pick up any uniforms he might have left there. Sure enough, they had one, all bright and green and neatly pressed, with shining brass buttons. I tipped them a couple of pounds, took it to the men's room in the back of a nearby tavern, and slipped it on—and an hour later I was patrolling the corridors of the museum, nodding pleasantly to passersby and keeping a watchful eye on the emerald.

  Then, when the museum hit a slow period and the room containing the Empire Emerald had emptied out, I walked into it with a beer in my hand, set it down atop the glass case that covered the gemstone, and tipped the bottle over. I pulled the phony emerald out of my pocket, lifted up the glass cover, and as the alarm went off I quickly exchanged it for the real emerald, got down on my knees, pulled out a handkerchief, and set about trying to clean the beer off the glass.

  The room filled up to overflowing with guards about ten seconds later. A couple of them even covered me with their pistols until they saw the emerald where it ought to be, and then they helped me put the glass cover back on. I explained that I was new on the job, and that I was just trying to clean up after myself because I had spilled some beer, and after telling me what a clumsy fool I was, they told me to pack up my gear and go home, that my services were no longer needed. They managed to get the alarm turned off just about the time I was coming down the museum steps to the sidewalk in front of the building.

  I went back to my room at the Luk Kwok Hotel, where I had a little chat with my Silent Partner, explaining to Him that while what I did may have seemed a criminal act on the surface of it, if He would examine the consequences carefully He would have to agree that it was for the best all the way around. Willie Wong was still going to capture Rupert Cornwall, so he would be happy; the museum would never know they weren't displaying the real Empire Emerald, so they would be happy; Cornwall was going to go to jail anyway, so at least he wouldn't be any less happy for not having the emerald in his possession for a couple of minutes. And me, I finally had sufficient capital to build the Tabernacle of Saint Luke, which I promised the Lord I would do just as soon as I spent a few years scouting out the territory for the very best location.

  Everything went pretty smoothly the next day. First thing I did was stop by the laundry and drop off the uniform, so no one would notice it was missing and maybe start thinking about why it was missing. Then I scouted up some lunch that didn't smell of fish, and wandered the streets a bit, and at about two in the afternoon I walked over to the museum, lingered there for an hour or two, had a very public misunderstanding with a blonde Frenchwoman, and then headed back toward the Luk Kwok.

  Along the way, I picked up some chewing gum and stuck a wad of it into my mouth. Then I stopped by a little gift shop, and while the proprietor was speaking to another customer, I stuck the Empire Emerald on the back of his radiator with the chewing gum. Since it was midsummer, I knew he wasn't going to fiddle with the radiator for another few months, and I figured to be back for it within just a day or two. The very last thing I did was hide the cloth bag with the lump of coal inside the water tank behind the toilet once I returned to my room in the Luk Kwok. Then I lay back on my bed, pulled out the Good Book, and whiled the night away reading about Solomon's more exotic dalliances.

  The police showed up right on schedule, at a quarter after two in the morning, and hustled me off to jail. I kept protesting my innocence, the way I figured both Willie Wong and Rupert Cornwall would expect of me, and then, just after daybreak, a guard came and unlocked my cell. As far as I was concerned he could have waited another couple of hours, since I hadn't yet got around to converting Mei Sung again, but given the circumstances I didn't think it proper to protest, so I let him escort me to freedom, which turned put to be Wong's little cubbyhole.


  “Good morning, Doctor Jones,” he said without getting up from his chair.

  “Good morning, Brother Wong,” I said. “How'd it go last night?”

  “Apprehend whole gang,” he said happily. “Rupert Cornwall in cell one flight up from yours.”

  “That's great news, Brother Wong,” I said. “And did you get the emerald back?”

  “Empire Emerald once again on display in Fung Ping Shan Museum.”

  “I guess that closes the case.”

  He nodded. “Cannot teach old dog new tricks.”

  “Well, I'll sure remember that the next time I run into an old dog, Brother Wong,” I said. “I assume I'm free to go.”

  “Farther you go, the better.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It best you leave Hong Kong,” said Wong. “Many friends and clients of Rupert Cornwall not very pleased with you.”

  “A telling point,” I agreed. “Gimme just a couple of hours to get my gear together and I'll be off.”

  “Thank you for help, Doctor Jones,” said Wong. “Knew you were right man for job.”

  “My pleasure, Brother Wong,” I said.

  Then I took my leave of him, went back to the Luk Kwok, and looked around to see if there was anything I wanted to take along with me. There were some old shirts and pants and socks and such, but since I was about to pick up the Empire Emerald on my way out of town, I decided that I really owed myself a new wardrobe, so I finally left empty-handed.

  I moseyed over to the area where the gift shop was, did maybe an hour of serious window-shopping up and down the street for the benefit of anyone who might have been watching me, and finally entered the little store after I was sure I wasn't being observed.

  “You are Lucifer Jones, are you not?” asked the proprietor the second I closed the door behind me.

  “How did you know?” I asked. “I don't recall talking to you last night.”

  “I was given your description by Inspector Wong,” he replied. “He left a note for you.”

  He handed me a folded-up piece of paper, which I opened and read:

  Dear Doctor Jones:

  Had feeling all along you were perfect man for job. Had honorable Number Ten, Fourteen, Seventeen, and Twenty-Two sons observe you constantly since you left custody. Not only is Rupert Cornwall under arrest, but we now know weakness in museum security system, all thanks to you.

  Is old Chinese custom to exchange gifts. You will know where to look for yours.

  Your humble servant,

  Willie Wong,

  Hong Kong Police

  P.S. Money is root of all evil.

  I threw the paper down on the counter and raced over to the radiator. I reached behind it, found my gum and the stone, and pulled it out: it was the same lump of coal Rupert Cornwall had given me two days ago.

  “Is something wrong, Mr. Jones?” asked the storekeeper.

  “Nothing I shouldn't have expected from trusting someone who ain't a decent, God-fearing Christian,” I said bitterly. “Give me a map, brother.”

  “A map?” he repeated.

  “This town's seen the last of me,” I said. “I'm heading to where a man of the cloth can convert souls in peace and quiet without worrying about getting flimflammed by gangsters and detectives and the like.”

  He pulled a map out from behind the counter. I looked at it for a minute and then, with four hundred and fifty pounds of Rupert Cornwall's money still in my pocket, I lit out across the mouth of the Pearl River for Macao, where I hoped to find a better class of sinner to listen to my preaching.

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