The Concubine Affair

by Quig Shelby

  ’I do.’

  ‘This is useless,’ shouted Heshen ‘from now on I ask the questions.’

  ‘And do you serve the Emperor well?’ asked Heshen.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And do you hide any secrets from the Emperor?’

  ‘Yes,’ answered the toad.

  ‘And what are they?’ pursued Heshen.

  ‘That Wa Yu sleeps with the priest Alain Fontaney.’

  Fu looked at Alain; it was out of his hands. There was already a guard standing next to him, with his sword drawn.

  ‘And who else knows of this forbidden affair?’ asked Heshen.

  ‘Her eunuch Yi Peng, Fu Chung Soo, Zhen Wong, and Bik Dong Fang.’

  The guards were moving in, as Heshen ordered Fu to shine the light on Bik.

  ‘I have already told you all I know,’ said Bik turning to Chien-lung.

  ‘Then you have nothing to fear my dear Bik,’ said Chien-lung

  Fu shined the light where ordered, although he had no love for Bik, and a beast half bear half wolf was skewered in the air.

  ‘Tell me you name,’ ordered Heshen.

  ‘Bik Dong Fang.’

  ‘And what do you know of Wa Yu and Alain Fontaney?’

  ‘That they are lovers.’

  Heshen was pushing his luck.

  ‘And did you report it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Bik felt relieved until Heshen’s next question.

  ‘Because you love the Emperor?’

  ‘No I despise the old fool, it is Lei Weng I love,’ said the beast from Bik’s heart.

  ‘This is nonsense,’ shouted Lei.

  Then rushing forwards he plunged his sword into Bik’s chest; he would not have her tortured. Lei ran to the stage, scything the lantern in two before anyone could stop him, and then fell on his sword. He looked accusingly at Heshen as he died.

  Heshen allowed himself a wry smile; it was his fault entirely, but he had allowed both Bik and Lei to gain too much leverage over him.

  The audience were both spell bound and shocked. They could only hope the Emperor allowed them to live. The Palace guards were standing behind all the accused; the live ones.

  ‘Take them away,’ shouted Heshen.

  ‘Wa Yu stay a moment,’ said the Emperor, and he beckoned her forth. A nervous guard watched over her.

  The column of prisoners were led outside to the awaiting dungeons beyond the palace walls. But Fu had chance to grab Zhen’s hands, and make a run for it.

  ‘Sorry Sir they’ve got away,’ said an exhausted guard, and Heshen’s latest lover.

  ‘Don’t worry the Palace is surrounded they won’t get far,’ said Heshen confidently.

  Chien-lung was visibly crying as he asked Wa one simple question.

  ‘Why?’

  She didn’t want to break his heart, so she simply said ‘I was lonely.’

  ‘Take her away,’ ordered the Emperor ‘but not to the dungeons, to her rooms.’

  Guards were stationed at the front and back, and Wa was a prisoner under house arrest. But she wasn’t alone; she saw the feet of Fu and Zhen sticking out from under her bed. They had gone to the only place Fu knew wouldn’t be turned upside down as they were hunted; the bedroom of the concubine whose beauty had started it all.

  Chapter Forty Seven

  The doors were open early, and the auction house was full of anticipation. There were even a couple of reporters present. Marcus usually followed proceedings by phone, but he couldn’t resist attending what was to be his greatest triumph. Unfortunately a small figure at the front turned around to wave; it was none other than Hui Lin, and he wasn’t wearing his chef’s hat.

  Marcus felt uncomfortable, and fidgeted in his chair. There was no doubt the little Chinaman would want a very large slice of the pie, and probably all the gravy. Still taking risks was what business was all about. He sent Tyrone a text; he had Hui’s address, now he had to foreclose on his mortgage.

  Kingsley looked mortified.

  ‘It can’t be the same vase,’ he said.

  The security guard had no explanation, and Kingsley phoned Yi to come to his office.

  ‘Can you explain this?’ he asked.

  Yi looked at the vase; one half was blank. He turned it upside down and examined the markings.

  ‘It appears to be the Qianlong vase, but as you can see half of the engravings have gone,’ said Yi.

  ‘Gone where?’ asked Kingsley sounding hysterical. ‘The auction begins in fifteen minutes.’

  ‘I don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like it,’ said Yi.

  Kingsley looked a mess, and could see his plum role, and West End flat, disappearing along with the drawings on the vase.

  ‘Is it vandalism?’ he asked.

  At least then the insurance would pay out; unless they’d been careless. And had they? Yi was the new boy in town, and had plenty of access.

  Kingsley and Yi examined the vase together on the desk.

  ‘There’s no evidence of damage or tampering,’ said Yi.

  ‘It’s as though there was nothing ever there,’ said Kingsley.

  But they both knew there was. The concubine’s suicide, and her lover’s execution.

  ‘Perhaps it was a fake,’ said Kingsley ‘and the paint just ran off.’

  He was clutching at straws, but how else could you explain it?

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Yi.

  ‘Well there’s only one thing to do,’ said Kinsley resigned, and he phoned the auction room downstairs.

  ‘Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention,’ shouted the auctioneer, looking a trifle embarrassed.

  ‘Regrettably the Qianlong vase has been withdrawn from today’s sale,’ he said.

  There were groans amongst the crowd.

  ‘Why?’ someone shouted and ‘shame’ another, but all the auctioneer could do was look flustered.

  ‘Lot number two,’ he said ‘a stone Persian archer.’

  Hui got up to leave, and couldn’t resist a word in Marcus’ ear as he brushed by.

  ‘Bad luck comes to the thief who buys the pot before he has stolen the chicken,’ said Hui, and looking like he’d eaten too many noodles since they last met.

  Marcus was a pot about to boil over, and he quickly beat a path to Kingsley’s door. He insisted on seeing his vase, and was incredulous, though it was no time to lose his head; the inquest would begin later.

  Marcus felt deflated, first Verity and now the vase; at least he had Ivy. And there now seemed no point in killing Hui, which might be a blessing in disguise. He phoned Tyrone but he wasn’t picking up.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Hui ‘I must be lost’ as he approached the top floor.

  ‘The auctions on the ground floor,’ said a disgruntled administrator.

  ‘Apologies,’ said Hui and he went to the elevator.

  He stood at the back next to Yi, with the guard working double shifts looking tired at the front. They were taking the mysterious vase back to the safe.

  Outside the building Hui undid his coat buttons, and put the Qianlong vase in a very large carry bag.

  ‘Is that the right vase?’ asked the guard.

  ‘Of course, didn’t you just hear Kingsley say the engravings had disappeared?’ said Yi.

  The guard nodded.

  ‘I’m tired,’ he said.

  They slammed the safe door shut on the vase; only this one had no detail at all, apart from a made in China stamp.

  ‘Keep an eye on Yi Peng,’ said Kingsley to the head of security.

  ‘Yes Sir when he comes back.’

  ‘Why where’s he gone?’

  ‘He said to get a takeaway Sir.’
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br />   Kinglsey sighed he just hoped his worst nightmare wasn’t about to come true.

  ‘He’s phoned again, hasn’t he?’ asked Grainger.

  ‘He just wants a shoulder to cry on,’ said Ivy referring to Marcus.

  Grainger’s eyes were wide open and red. He looked pumped up, and he was; he’d been in the gym since early morning, working his muscles and steroids.

  ‘Look Grainger shape up or ship out; this is the way it’s going to be,’ said Ivy.

  He didn’t need much provocation, and flew into a rage; all pretence of control shattered. She kicked and twisted, but she was no match for his strength, or brutality, and he slowly choked the life out of her with his powerful tattooed hands. He was still driven to kill, but there was only one other person left in the room alive. He took the kitchen knife, and swung it into his stomach, twice. Even as the boiling blood oozed out of him he couldn’t feel the enormity of his actions. Their bodies lay silent next to one another.

  Wa could hear a commotion outside her rooms, and Fu and Zhen hid back under the bed.

  ‘Whatever is the matter,’ asked Wa to the three guards newly stationed outside.

  ‘They won’t let me in,’ said the woman holding the tray of necklaces.

  ‘Can’t you see she’s just a simple trader,’ said Wa. ‘Has the Emperor forbidden me all visitors?’

  Stubbornly the guards let the woman pass.

  ‘I think that perhaps this colour would suit you best,’ said the saleswoman loudly.

  ‘It’s alright they can’t hear us back here,’ said Wa.

  ‘I bring a message from Heng the gardener’ said his wife ‘he wishes to find Fu.’

  She’d tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted. The arrests had brought it all back; Fu had saved his love and his life.

  Fu and Zhen revealed themselves, and Heng’s wife smiled.

  ‘It is just as well,’ she said ‘now, how can I help?’

  ‘Get this message to Alain Fontaney if you can’ said Fu ‘meet us at the Jesuit church tomorrow night.’

  ‘Can you do it?’ asked Wa.

  She smiled.

  ‘My daughter has the eye of a ruffian who is serving a sentence for stealing the Emperor’s apples,’ she said.

  Hui put the vase on the floor, and undid the front door lock. From the stairwell someone followed him home, and bundled him over. The vase rolled onto the floor. Tyrone turned on the light, and couldn’t believe his eyes, there were Imperial Chinese vases everywhere. Hui was out for the count, as the ex-boxer slowly looked around.

  ‘At last,’ said Marcus ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you. Did you get my text?’

  ‘Only the one to kill Hui.’

  ‘Have you?’

  ‘Not yet,’ answered Tyrone.

  ‘Then don’t.’

  ‘But boss you should see his flat it’s like a museum. It must be worth millions.’

  A lightning fast hand grabbed the phone from Tyrone.

  Whatever was he on about thought Marcus?

  Tyrone went to punch him out, but it was blocked, and he was kicked to the floor. Yi jumped on him, and broke his neck with a quick twist.

  ‘Are you alright,’ he asked Hui.

  ‘Yes Yi, I am fine.’

  ‘And the vase?’ asked Yi.

  ‘Even better, take a look.’

  The story had returned, but Wa Yu wasn’t hanging, her place was taken by another concubine; stabbed through the heart by her lover. Alain was not yet executed, but was imprisoned.

  ‘History has been rewritten,’ said Yi ‘and Alain’s future still hangs in the balance.’

  ‘Unlike our visitor’s,’ said Hui looking at Tyrone’s dead body.

  ‘What shall I do with the body?’ asked Yi.

  ‘Let us wait a little while, perhaps we will be going home shortly,’ said Hui.

  ‘Tyrone, are you there?’ repeated Marcus, but the line like his former employee was dead.

  Orvid parked his car behind the caravan used as a lounge by the stage hands, and obscured from view. The posters outside the Peking had ‘cancelled’ scrawled across in such a jagged fashion they screamed animosity. There had been a downpour, and the rain was still dripping from the gutters.

  ‘It looks haunted in the night,’ said Karin.

  ‘It is,’ said Orvid.

  They weren’t so much as breaking into his dressing room, as retrieving his props, and most importantly his latex and rubber gear. They had time for a kiss, briefly.

  ‘Someone’s here,’ said Karin, as the car headlights streamed through the blinds into Orvid’s dressing room.

  ‘Must be someone turning around in the car-park,’ he said.

  But the engine turned dead, just before Orvid zipped Karin up for once and pulled a fuse. Soon the back door was being unlocked. Lawrence Calder poured Libby’s blood from the bottle onto the cuffs of the frilly shirt, and opened the large vinyl covered trunk.

  ‘Deviant,’ he mumbled as a sea of rubber masks greeted him. In the gloom he didn’t notice Orvid’s eyes watching him from below, and he threw in the shirt, a laptop, and one hotel key, before carefully sealing his fate.

  ‘Look I haven’t got much time, so just listen. The woman killed at the Plato Hotel, Libby Benedict; it was the husband. Search his room at the Peking theatre if you don’t believe me,’ and Calder hung up.

  Finally they heard his car pull off. The rubber doll stepped out from the corner of the room, and Karin removed her cover.

  ‘Libby’s laptop, and I guess this is her blood on my shirt,’ said Orvid. ‘Let me guess I followed her to the hotel, and killed her. And I even kept the key.’

  He looked at Karin.

  ‘Well, what are you going to do?’ she asked.

  ‘I think I might have a trick up my sleeve for Doctor Calder.’

  ‘I meant are you going to screw me, or not?’

  Chapter Forty Eight

  ‘Don’t bother with that one,’ said the dungeon master ‘he’s refusing his food.’

  Alain Fontaney, the Jesuit priest, was fasting.

  ‘Shame, it could be his last meal,’ said the oily torturer.

  ‘Well he won’t have time to starve before the Emperor has him sliced,’ said the dungeon master.

  The priest was a prime candidate for the death of a thousand cuts.

  ’I’d better look after him,’ said the torturer ‘the Emperor will surely want a long lingering death for the missionary.’

  ‘Hey, you boy,’ he shouted down the corridor ‘that’s right, the thief. Got any apples left in your pockets?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It was Heng’s hopeful son-in-law to be.

  ‘Then try the barbarian over here,’ said the torturer.

  Alain, like Hui and Yi beside him, was sitting on the floor with his legs chained to the wall, and his hands locked together.

  The young man knelt beside Alain.

  ‘Thank you for your charity, but I fast in worship,’ said Alain.

  ‘Then perhaps your prayers have been answered,’ said the young man, and he whispered Fu’s message.

  ‘Before you go, let me have one bite,’ said Alain.

  The thief saw the lock pick on the floor, and followed Alain’s eyes to his hands, where it soon rested.

  The coal fires burned hot in the dungeon, and the ironing brands made Alain wince. Yi was made of sterner stuff; he’d already been hacked for duty. It was thirsty work, and the guards sat over a cask of ale. Some chased the dragon before work; it helped mellow the screams.

  ‘Water,’ said Hui.

  The torturer looked at him.

  ‘Please,’ begged Hui.

  The torturer picked up a ladle, dipped
it in the barrel, and headed for Hui. He stood with it close to Hui’s lips, and then let it run slowly onto the floor.

  ‘Ask your priest to pray,’ mocked the torturer.

  ‘I already have,’ said Alain, and he wrapped the chains around his thick neck.

  Yi sent the dungeon master on his way; permanently.

  Alain and Yi took their clothes, and marched Hui out of the front gate.

  ‘The Palace is in turmoil,’ said Heng’s wife ‘Alain Fontaney has escaped.’

  Wa smiled.

  ‘It is time to join him,’ said Fu.

  Wa hid her nerves.

  ‘Are you ready?’ asked Fu.

  She nodded.

  ‘Then look into my eyes,’ said Fu.

  Soon she was under his spell, hypnotised, and ready for any suggestion.

  ‘Wa Yu you can walk,’ he said for the final time.

  Heng’s wife was bound and tied, and in her robes Wa calmly walked out, and passed the guards. The captain glanced twice under the hood but it couldn’t be the concubine; her feet were bound, her freedom fettered.

  ‘Help,’ shouted Heng’s wife.

  ‘You imbeciles,’ she remonstrated as they untied her, can’t you tell the difference between me and a concubine?’

  ‘Have they gone?’ asked Zhen.

  ‘Yes,’ answered Fu.

  They slipped out in disguise, although Fu was a little tall for a lady of the Court.

  ‘This way,’ said Fu ‘we will hide in here until nightfall.’

  ‘I’m never going back,’ said Verity.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Alain lying next to her.

  ‘I never ever change my mind,’ she said.

  ‘Well then we should celebrate. Chinese?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh I have a much better idea,’ said Verity, and she took the key from around her neck, and released him from bondage.

  They climbed out of the seamstress’s cupboard, and for the first time Zhen saw fear in Fu’s eyes. This time it wasn’t just his own life in the firing line, but Zhen’s too.

  ‘Everything will be fine Fu,’ she said.

  ‘Are you certain?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course I am. Are you not the Kingdom’s greatest escapologist?’

  He was, but there were guards stationed all around the Summer Palace.