by J. D. Rhodes
“Well?” he said. His voice was dry and raspy, as if he rarely used it.
She bowed her head. “Thank you, Great Sir, for agreeing to see me. I know you are a busy and powerful man.”
Kwan snorted. “If I want to be flattered, I can have that any time. My brother says you have something new to tell me.”
She straightened up. “Yes. There is a man. A white devil. He is claiming to be Chinese, and stirring up trouble for which he wants the Chinese blamed.”
The man in the chair grunted, unimpressed. “The white devils blame the Chinese for all their troubles.”
“Yes. But this man is stirring up trouble while claiming to be the head of the Green Dragon Tong.”
That brought a flicker of something across the man’s face. Surprise. Maybe anger. But it was gone too quickly to tell. His face resumed that blank, unnerving regard. Mei began to speak again, but he raised his hand in a languid yet commanding gesture and she fell silent. He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a small silver bell. When he rang it, a panel slid open in one side of the room, so unexpectedly as to make Mei jump. A woman was standing there, also robed in traditional fashion. She smiled at Mei. She was stunningly beautiful, her eyes dark and wide, her face perfect in every proportion, as if she’d just stepped out of a painting. The man murmured something, and the woman bowed and stepped back into the darkness behind the panel. In a moment, still smiling, she returned with a chair, which she set behind Mei. It was then that Mei saw the dagger thrust into the belt of the woman’s robe. The woman caught Mei’s gaze and bowed, still smiling, before stepping back to stand behind the chair.
“Now,” Kwan said. “Sit down. Tell me everything.” He gestured at the woman standing behind Mei. “And if you lie to me, The White Orchid there will cut your throat.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cade shook his head. Mrs. Hamrick’s revelation, if true, would turn everything he thought he knew about this job on its head. If she was really the one footing the bill, shouldn’t she be the one being guarded? “This place is too deep for me,” he muttered. He briefly considered heading back down to the Barbary Coast, using the gold in his pocket to buy a good horse and enough supplies for a few weeks, and seeing what there was to see that he hadn’t seen already back east. Something in him, though, rebelled against the idea of going back. It felt like retreat. He’d fetched up here, at the edge of the continent, and here it was he’d resolved to make his fortune. In the meantime, he’d set himself the task of protecting this family. The next thing was to get to work planning how he was going to do that.
He walked to the back of the property, to where the high hedge obscured the house behind. The thick greenery formed a solid wall. But as he drew closer, Cade saw something that wasn’t there yesterday. A portal had been cut through the vegetation, a ragged hole through which a man, or a few men, might pass.
“Son of a bitch,” a voice came from behind him. Cade turned, his hand going to his weapon. Samuel was standing there, looking disgusted. “I finally got that hedge looking the way I wanted it.”
“That’s too bad,” Cade said. “But we’ve got bigger problems than damage to the greenery. I figure those Chinamen snuck through here to attack the house.” He started to push through the few branches that barely obscured the passage cut through the hedge, then thought better of it and stepped back. “What’s on the other side of this?”
Samuel rubbed his chin. “I think that’s the Sumner house.”
“You know them?”
Samuel shook his head. “They weren’t here more than a month or two. Then I heard they lost everything on railroad stocks. I think the bank owns the place now.”
Cade drew his pistol. “Well, what the bank doesn’t know won’t cause it any disturbance.” He pushed through the hedge.
He found himself looking at the back of a house about half the size of the Hamrick mansion, but with peeling paint across the expanse of the back and the odd board hanging askew. None of the grimy windows had shades or drapery, and they looked down on him like the dead and empty eyes of a corpse, a line of gallery windows on the lower level gaping at him like a skull’s grin.
A rustling behind him made him turn to see Samuel forcing his own way through the ragged hole in the vegetation. “You say no one lives here?” Cade asked.
“Not that I know of.”
Cade nodded at the house. “Then I wonder why that back door’s hanging open.”
Samuel regarded the half-opened red door at the corner of the house with alarm. “We should fetch the police.”
“Yep. Probably should.” Cade walked slowly toward the door. As he reached the short flight of steps leading up to it, he drew his pistol.
“You don’t think they’re still there?” Samuel’s voice came from behind.
“Hush,” was Cade’s only reply. He advanced up the stairs as cat-footed as his size would allow, his ears straining for any sound or sign of habitation. When he reached the door, he nudged it open with the long barrel of the Navy revolver. It swung open with the slightest of creaks.
“We can’t go in there,” Samuel whispered, even though there was no one else within earshot. “It’s trespassing.”
“Yep,” Cade answered without turning around. “You’d best go back if you don’t want trouble.” He moved forward, the gun moving back and forth like a hound seeking a scent. The door opened onto a gallery that stretched across the back of the house, the windows he’d seen earlier letting the morning light in. A hallway on his left led toward the front. A light film of dust covered everything, except for a trail along the gallery by the windows, where an undetermined number of feet had disturbed the grime. A pair of chairs sat by the windows, in the middle of the trail. Cade stopped and listened. Nothing stirred. He lowered the pistol, but didn’t holster it before walking down the gallery. There were several objects scattered on the floor beside and between the chairs. He bent down and picked up a metal can with his free hand. “Canned peaches,” he read the label out loud. He let the can drop to the floor with a clang and picked another object off the sill of one of the windows. It was a rolled tube of tobacco. He heard footsteps and turned to see Samuel standing there. “You ever heard of Chinamen eating canned peaches and smoking cigars?”
Samuel looked annoyed. “Why shouldn’t they?”
“I don’t know,” Cade said. He looked through the windows. Over the top of the hedge, he could see the tops of the first-floor windows of the Hamrick house. The second- and third-floor windows were clearly visible. He saw a glimpse of someone moving in a third-floor window, caught a flash of red hair. Bridget, at some household chore.
He turned to Samuel. “They laid up here. Watched the house until it was time for them to make their move.”
Samuel stood behind him, arms folded tightly across his chest. “It’s enough to give a man chills.”
“It is.” Cade put the cheroot back on the sill.
“We should tell the police.” Samuel looked at him. “Don’t you think?”
Cade grunted. “Not sure. Something here doesn’t feel right.”
“Why?” Samuel demanded. “Because you don’t believe a Chinese would eat canned fruit?”
Cade looked at him. “There must have been half a dozen policemen crawling all over the house last night. And not a one of them looked back here. Not one of them found what it took us five minutes to find. All they seemed to be interested in was grilling me and you. Don’t that seem a mite odd?”
“Do I think it’s odd that the police spend all their effort at the scene of a crime questioning the one black man present? No, Mr. Cade, I do not find that odd at all.”
“Well, they took a fair amount of interest in me as well. But I take your point. Do you see mine?”
Samuel looked at the Hamrick house through the dirty windows. “You don’t trust the police in this.”
Cade shook his head. “Lawmen…I don’t know. I’ve worked for some tha
t were decent. I’ve met some who I learned not to trust at all. Some men wear that badge for all the wrong reasons. So, then I come here and…well, something here is way off plumb. So, no. I don’t know who to trust.”
Samuel gave him a thin smile. “Welcome to San Francisco, Mr. Cade.”
Cade grimaced. “You say that like you’re thinking maybe I shouldn’t have come. I will allow as how the thought has crossed my own mind.” He sighed. “But here I am, and I’ve taken on a job, and I mean to see it through.”
“Well,” Samuel said, the sardonic smile fading to be replaced by his familiar look of blank hostility. “That would be a refreshing change.”
Cade’s bafflement was making him frustrated, his frustration was making him angry, and Samuel’s apparently random antagonism gave his anger a focus. “God damn it, man,” he erupted. “We never met till yesterday, and yet you still act like I ate your last piece of fucking birthday cake. So tell me, what the everlasting hell is your problem with me?”
Samuel’s eyes narrowed and he spoke through gritted teeth. “You really want to know?”
“I’m goddamn askin’, ain’t I?”
Samuel glared for a minute, then his gaze broke and he looked away. “You’re proud of your time in the Union Army, I take it.”
Cade was baffled by the sudden tangent. “I did my part, I guess. Didn’t dishonor myself. I got no regrets. And, you don’t mind my saying so, we did help set your people—”
Samuel flared up. “Don’t say it. Don’t you DARE say it.”
Cade stepped back, more baffled than ever. Before he could speak again, Samuel began in a low, flat voice, leached of emotion. “You want to tell me the United States Army freed us? Then tell me, Mr. Cade…or what was your rank? Lieutenant? Colonel?”
“Hell, no. I wasn’t an officer. I worked for my damn living.” He saw that the old soldier’s joke didn’t register with Samuel. “I was a corporal. Mostly. Made it to sergeant a couple of times, but it didn’t take.”
“So, Corporal, what exactly did the Union Army do once they moved through and, as you were about to remind me, set my people free?”
“We…” Cade closed his mouth and thought for a moment. “We moved on. We were cavalry. We had to go fast.”
“And what, Corporal,” Samuel delivered the word with a bitter grimace, “did you think became of us once you moved on?”
Cade couldn’t answer. Samuel went on. “Someday, Mr. Cade, I will tell you exactly what horrors my family suffered when your glorious army moved on.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, closed his eyes, then opened them again and looked at Cade. “But you haven’t earned that. Not yet.”
Cade thought it over. “Okay,” he finally spoke. “You feel that you and yours were mighty ill-used. Abandoned, even. I allow as how you’ve probably got a legitimate grievance.” He took a deep breath. “But do you see how this is goddamn similar? It’s not about what anybody’s earned. These people here need help. I need help. I been running through my head how I’m gonna keep this here family safe from whoever it is that means them harm, whether it’s these boo-hoo-doo Chinamen or someone else. And so far, the only conclusion I can draw is, I can’t do it alone. I know you have some affection for them. The little girl, at least. So, can you lay aside this grudge you’ve got against me and my former profession and help me do this job?”
Samuel looked away. “I don’t know what I can do. I’m…I’m not a brave man. As you now know.”
“Seems like you kept your head pretty well last night. And you shot straight when it counted, which is pretty damn important.”
Samuel shook his head. “That was sheer luck. It was the first time I’ve ever fired a pistol.”
“Well, I can teach you. If you’re willin’ to learn.”
The black man was silent. Then, “For them. For her, I’ll do it.”
“Okay, then.” Cade put his hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “Well, then, let’s get to work.”
Samuel looked at the hand until Cade pulled it away, embarrassed. “Mr. Cade,” Samuel said, “please don’t do that again.”
Cade sighed. “Have I mentioned lately that you are one aggravating son of a…one aggravatin’ so-and-so?”
“No,” Samuel said. “Not to me. But I make no apologies for it.”
Cade had to laugh at that. “Fair enough. Let’s get you fitted for some iron.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When Mei finished, Mr. Kwan neither spoke nor changed expression. He’d spent her entire recitation looking off into the distance, as if he was thinking of something else. They sat in silence for a moment, Mei acutely conscious of the White Orchid sitting silently behind her. She had heard of the woman—who in Chinatown hadn’t?—but she’d always dismissed tales of the Green Dragon’s merciless female assassin as so much moonshine, lurid fairytales like the ones in the magazines the white devils read. But it seemed as if there was such a person, sitting right behind her. She tried to suppress her trembling, terrified that Mr. Kwan would take it as a sign she was lying and signal the apparition behind her to slash that razor-sharp dagger across her throat. But I’m so tired, she thought. At least then I could sleep. The rush of the past few hours had worn off, and she felt ready to slide off the chair to the polished wooden floor and slumber for a thousand years.
When Mr. Kwan finally moved, it was merely to nod, but it still made Mei jump as if he’d leaped across the table at her. “You are tired,” he said, his flinty expression and his voice suddenly kind. “You will have something to eat. And you will be my guest here while I consider this.” It was expressed as an invitation, but the order was clear. Mr. Kwan stood, and Mei heard the rustling of silk as the woman behind her moved. She tensed, wondering if the sudden solicitousness was a trick to lure her off her guard while The White Orchid killed her. But to Mei’s astonishment, Mr. Kwan actually bowed slightly and gestured behind her. “She will see to your needs.” Only then did Mei dare to turn.
The White Orchid stood there, still with that enigmatic smile, but the dagger was still at her waist, undrawn. She gestured to the door, still silent. Mei turned back long enough to acknowledge Mr. Kwan’s bow with a deep one of her own, and followed the graceful assassin out the door.
They went down a long, dark hallway, lit only by a few candles in wall sconces. At a door on the left, the woman produced a key from the folds of her robe and let herself in, beckoning Mei to follow.
The room was small, but opulently furnished, with cushioned chairs, a beautifully carved and joined black lacquer table, and a curtained bed that caused Mei to yearn for sleep.
The woman gestured to a chair beside one of the tables, bidding her to sit. “First you will have something to eat,” she said. Her voice was gentle and mellifluous, instantly soothing to Mei despite her tension and misgivings. “Then you may sleep, Little Sister.”
The kindness in the woman’s voice and the familiar endearment, after all she’d seen that day, nearly made Mei weep. She wanted to kiss the woman’s hand in gratitude. But she merely nodded. “Thank you.” She gave a tired chuckle. “I don’t know if I’m more tired or hungry.”
The White Orchid nodded. “I know. But you will rest better when you’ve eaten.” She slipped out the door.
Mei could see the logic in that. Still, she’d nodded off in the chair by the time The White Orchid returned with a bowl of dumplings in broth and a pot of tea. Mei later wished she’d been more awake while she wolfed the dumplings down. All she could recollect was that they were excellent. When she was done, The White Orchid gently led her to the bed and pulled a blanket over her. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
CHAPTER TWENTY
As Cade and Samuel pushed their way through the hole in the hedge, back into the rear courtyard, Cade heard the insistent tinkling of a bell being rung as if the ringer intended to wear it out.
“Damn it,” Samuel muttered. He rushed to the path that led to the street. In a mome
nt, he was back. A wagon drawn by a single worn-looking horse followed slowly. Simonson, the little man who’d fitted Cade for his new clothes and stabbed him with a pin, was seated in the driver’s seat, looking mightily put out.
Cade took a deep breath and pasted a smile on his face. As he approached the wagon, the tailor spoke first. “I am not accustomed to being kept waiting.”
Cade knew this man’s type. He’d sneer and smirk and lord it over the other people whose job it was to serve, while licking the boots of the bosses and masters. He felt like taking his boot to the little fucker’s backside, but he knew how that would look. And he knew the obnoxious little tailor would most likely be checking the fit of his new clothes, a few inches away from Cade’s groin with his pins and his scissors. Cade figured it was a good time to exercise what few diplomatic skills he had.
“Sorry,” he said with what he hoped was an ingratiating smile. “We were otherwise employed. A matter of some delicacy.” He nodded wisely at the tailor. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”
Cade could swear he saw the man’s ears perk up. Gossip was no doubt as much a part of his stock-in-trade as clothing. “Indeed.” He looked around, taking in the hole in the hedge. His dark eyes widened. “Indeed,” he said more thoughtfully.
Cade wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to snoop further. “I’m guessing you have my new clothes.”
The man tore his eyes away from the hole. “Yes. Certainly. Is there a place where we can check the final fit?”
Cade nodded. “Front room.”
The tailor gestured to the back of the wagon. “Your new suits are in the trunks in the back.”
Cade was tempted to tell him to bring them in himself until he saw the size of the leather trunks. There was no way the little man could manage them. He considered making the supercilious bastard try, but decided that would just be mean. “Come on,” he told Samuel. “Let’s do this.”