The Chinese Vase

by Steve Turnbull

  “Where are we going, Fanning?”

  “Somewhere I know, we’ll be safe there. You can plan your next move.”

  Next move? thought Qi. All she had to do was give the box to Kuan-Yin Sun; he would pay her enough to get them back into the mountains for the next cargo of ice. It was that simple. But her heart rebelled. Why should she? The Beauty was hers.

  They reached a point where a tributary flowed down into the river from a residential area of the city, a natural stinking sewer. A rough bridge of planks led into a low area that looked as if it regularly flooded; it was covered with a treacherously green swathe of grass. Something to welcome the unwary before it swallowed them up in its muddy grip. Another plank bridge led along the tributary’s bank toward the houses.

  Fanning crossed the bridge.

  The captain’s leather costume chafed as she sweated in the heat. She needed a drink. Tea would do if something stronger couldn’t be found. Alcohol was not as easy to get hold of as she might like in India. One had to make compromises.

  Fanning was across the planks in a moment; his light frame barely moved the slotted wood. But it certainly gave when Qi put her booted foot on it. She edged across it almost laughing at herself. She had climbed the Beauty’s balloon rigging in a storm to tie down a broken line when there was nothing between her and a drop of hundreds of feet to a stony death. But this was different, she told herself. The stinking unpleasantness of the water was a much nastier threat.

  On the other side she had to extend her step to catch up. “Is it much further?”

  Fanning did not answer but pointed at a ramshackle pile of wood and stone that barely qualified as a building, squatting on a slight rise near a bend in the river.

  As they approached, the broken building resolved itself into several distinct hovels sitting within the collapsed walls and remains of what might have been an old fort constructed to defend the bend in the river. Stone steps went down to the river’s edge. The whole area was paved in stone underneath the coarse grass and bushes.

  There was the smell of cooking, and thin lines of smoke rose from small fires. They saw no one. Fanning stopped in the middle of the open area surrounded by the shacks.

  “Guru Parnashri?”

  There was movement all around them as women emerged from hiding. Qi frowned and stared. They were wearing saris but most of them did not look like women; they were men. Now she knew who they were. These were hijra. She had seen them on the streets occasionally, some begging and some selling themselves.

  One came out and sat facing them. Fanning greeted her, pressing his palms together and bowing his head. “Namaste, Guru Parnashri.”

  “Namaste, Liza Fanning.” The guru nodded. “Who is your aviator friend?”

  “Captain Qi, who has promised to take me away if I help her.”

  “Captain Qi, namaste.” She nodded again and Qi returned the gesture. “Do you tire of our company, Liza Fanning?”

  Liza? That removed Qi’s remaining doubt. A girl who dressed as a man, among men who dressed as women. It had a certain balance. Then Qi smiled inwardly, considering what she herself wore, what she considered normal clothing; she too was a woman dressed as a man.

  A timid hijra wearing a red-patterned sari, tattered round the hem, came up to them and touched Fanning on the arm. He passed Fanning an envelope.

  “Will you eat with us, Captain Qi?” said the guru. “And perhaps you would like to tell us your problems. It may be we can help.”

  It would be the height of bad manners to reject the offer, and it seemed they were safe for now. Fanning was reading the letter he—no, she’d removed from the envelope.

  Qi sat down next to Fanning, “Thank you.” She was curious about the letter but felt it impolite to ask.

  The guru nodded to one of the others. Qi looked round and noticed two hijra busying themselves around a fire. The remainder simply sat round them and watched in silence. It was a little unnerving.

  The food was served up on wooden plates: a small amount of rice and some vegetables, along with a piece of fish. The guru and Fanning ate with their fingers, using their right hands only, but she had been given chopsticks. She could barely remember the last time she had eaten using them; they used metal cutlery on the Beauty, and these were older than chopsticks had a right to be. She could not refuse to use them, as the guru had tried to make her feel at home, but she did wonder how clean they were.

  They made the meal last though there was little enough of it. To finish there was a thin tea that was barely more than water, but it had been boiled. She had seen them spooning it from the bubbling pot. It was surprisingly refreshing. When they had finished, the same hijra who had prepared the meal whisked away the plates.

  Guru Parnashri turned her brown eyes on Qi. “Captain Qi, what is your problem?”

  x

  They took their leave of the strange community when the greatest heat of the day had passed. Not that the small group of lean-tos provided much protection. The company had been friendly enough. One of the hijra waved a handkerchief as Qi departed and wiped a tear from his eye.

  “Would you be willing to carry a passenger, Captain?” asked Fanning.

  “Did we not discuss it?”

  “This would be Mrs Cameron, not me,” said Fanning. “She’s one of my clients. I sell things for her.”

  “Is she wanted?”

  “Oh no, she’s straight as a die. Proper English lady, but with a husband who ain’t worth a spit.” Fanning took out the letter and passed it to her. “Seems he’s noticed she’s been selling her jewellery to pay for his gambling.”

  Qi unfolded the letter. The handwriting was refined and clear with delicate curves, perfect except where it had been blotted by a drop of water—or, perhaps, a tear. The thrust of the letter was simple enough. Without saying so precisely, she indicated her husband had become violent and she would like to follow up on Fanning’s offer of escape.

  “You offered her passage on my ship?” Qi did not like people who took advantage.

  “Oh no, Captain, I assure you I offered her an escape before I even met you. But if there were any way she could be accommodated, I’m sure she would be grateful.”

  “I am not a charity for waifs and strays, Fanning. I have more pressing issues, like making sure I keep my ship.”

  But even as she said it, she had the beginnings of an idea.

  * * * * *

  Having sent Fanning off on errands, Qi took a roundabout route back towards the air-docks, making sure she passed through an area heavily populated by Chinese. Having ensured she was seen, she headed for a pub near the docks, too far from them to be frequented by customs men but close enough for her to hear the gossip. The bartender was an ex-flyer who had lost a leg and an arm in a crash years before.

  “Nice to see you in here, Captain Qi,” he said. “First drink on the house for any captain. What’ll you have?”

  “Gin rickey, Mac.”

  “Got no ice.”

  She smiled. “I get enough ice.”

  He took down a glass and gave it a wipe with a clean cloth before pouring in a short measure and adding the lime from a dusty bottle. He pushed it across the bar. She took a sip. The gin was rough but the lime and soda smoothed it out.

  “Jackanape cleared, Mac?” she asked.

  “Aye, this morning, but the Blossom came over earlier.”

  She nodded. “Yes, they were a day behind us.”

  “Shouldn’t you be lifting? Hanging about for any reason?”

  She knew he knew why, but he had the decency not to mention it. “Few things to sort out,” she replied taking another swig.

  The door slammed open. Qi looked in the mirror behind the bar as light flooded in. Two Indians with more muscle than fat, and they had plenty of that, moved into the room.

  They scanned it for trouble as Kuan-Yin Sun sauntered in, now wearing a grey suit that was tailored to a perfect fit. He looked suave enough to be a businessman. He pulled o
ff his white gloves.

  He looked at her and a cold smile spread across his face. “Captain Qi, so fortuitous that we have bumped into one another.”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “You should be careful who you associate with; not everyone is as trustworthy as I am.”

  “You would sell your mother for a wen.”

  She turned away from him and took a careful sip. Sun covered the distance between them, his shoes slapping across the stone floor. He became a close and intrusive presence at her side.

  “The time has come to pay up, Captain Qi,” he said into her ear. “Or forfeit the Beauty.”

  “Something smells rotten in here, Mac.”

  The bartender grinned. Sun moved back slightly and snapped his fingers. In the mirror Qi observed one of Sun’s enforcers closing in on her. She turned at the last moment and flung what remained of her drink into his face. He flung his hands up too late; the lime went into his eyes.

  Taking advantage of his blindness, she planted her knee where it would have the greatest effect. He went down with a whine. The second bodyguard was on her in a moment trying to get her in a bear hug. As she smelled his sweat she pulled his knife from its sheath and pressed the point into his stomach. Not enough to penetrate far, but enough to make him notice.

  He jerked away.

  Qi heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked. She looked to her right, straight into the barrel of Kuan-Yin Sun’s revolver.

  Behind him, Mac had picked up a bottle and was ready to swipe it across Sun’s head. She shook her head slightly. Mac frowned, but after a pause he lowered it. For one thing, she did not want Mac pulled into trouble that might leave him with even fewer limbs than he now possessed. On a more personal note, the blow to the head might make Sun pull the trigger.

  “Really, Captain Qi, is that any way to behave? You are outnumbered and quite alone.”

  She turned back to the bar. Mac made her a new drink; she pulled out a coin and tossed it on the bar in exchange.

  “What do you want, Sun?” she said, swallowing the entire glassful in one gulp.

  “Do not play games. Deliver the item and we will discuss how we may keep you flying.”

  “Indebted to you.”

  “More indebted,” he said. “But not to me, to the family.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider a bribe.” She turned to face him, and leaned casually on the bar.

  The grin returned to his face. “There is nothing you could offer that would tempt me.” And the grin disappeared. “Enough of this time wasting. I want the item and I want it now. If you do not supply it, I will kill your crew one at a time. Who shall it be first? Dingbang, perhaps?”

  She slumped. “All right. It’s been given to someone for safekeeping.”

  “Lead the way, Captain.”

  Qi walked towards the door. The enforcer on the floor climbed cautiously to his feet and scowled at her. She glanced into the corner, where Terry Montgomery had been watching the proceedings from behind a newspaper. The cook caught her brief gesture, a move that would have been meaningless to anyone who had not shipped with someone who could only communicate through sign-language.

  She stepped out into the hot, sweaty daylight with Sun at her back, the gun hidden but still trained on her.

  xi

  Fanning approached the Cherry Blossom in Winter as the ground crew manhandled blocks and sheets of ice out of the hold and onto the waiting steamlorries. Her hull was a similar design to the Frozen Beauty apart from the balloon system. Fanning did not understand the details, but with the two vehicles side by side it was clear that the Blossom had a smaller envelope overall, and that it stayed inflated while the ship sat in the grass.

  There were two engineers checking the pipes and balloons as she approached. One of them noticed her and gave the usual double-take of someone who assumed she was male then decided they weren’t so sure. This normally resulted in a stare, followed by the realisation that they were staring and a very deliberate (and obvious) looking away.

  “Permission to come aboard!” Fanning shouted up. The older of the two engineers waved his hand at the cargo door at the rear.

  Fanning shifted the box in her arms and walked around to the back of the vessel. She paused while a slick sheet of ice as thick as her arm and as big as a church window was winched carefully out. Bits of dirt and plant-life speckled the mostly clear block, clouded in places with other impurities.

  The workers did not give her a second look. She was old news to them and they got paid by the job, so the sooner they finished the sooner they could move on to the next one.

  She watched her footing on the icy floor as she made her way through the cold interior. The crewman releasing the next pile of ice for removal frowned at her.

  “Captain?” she asked.

  The crewman jerked his thumb at the stairs up to the bridge. The interior was the same design as the Frozen Beauty. Fanning climbed the steps, her hands freezing on the metal banister. She yanked open the first door and made her way through to the control room.

  The captain of the Blossom was another Chinaman, probably about the same age as Captain Zang’s first mate—what was his name? Dingbang? To the right was the navigator’s station. The Babbage was covered with a sheet. Apparently they didn’t have a computationer or didn’t believe in them.

  “Who you? What want?”

  Fanning bowed low, holding the box in both hands. “Greetings, Captain Han, from Captain Qi Zang.”

  Han grunted and glanced at the chronometer on the wall.

  “I am sorry for taking your time, Captain, but Captain Zang asks a boon.”

  There was no response from Han, but he kept his attention on her.

  “She believes you will have the honour of receiving a visit from Kuan-Yin Sun.” At that name Han’s eyes narrowed. He did not look pleased. Fanning pressed on. “She asks that you hold this gift for Sun, along with the gift you have for him. To give to him when he arrives.”

  Han made no answer but continued to stare at Fanning. Qi had supposed they might reach an impasse, and had given Fanning a suggestion that might break it She tried it out. “Captain Qi knows how much you appreciated your time with Li Qin Yi, and suggests you might want to repeat that pleasure.”

  Captain Han stood up straighter and his gaze went from relaxed dislike to an intense study. It was not comfortable. The silence stretched out until Han grunted again and nodded towards the chart table.

  Fanning carefully placed the box on the table and bowed again. She retreated to the door and made her escape. She preferred people who were talkative.

  That was another stage of the captain’s plan successfully carried out. Now for the next.

  * * * * *

  The sun was low enough in the sky to provide plenty of shadows as Qi, Kuan-Yin Sun, and his heavies made their way through the streets of Delhi towards the air-dock.

  Sun poked his gun into her side, hitting a nerve and making her jerk sideways. “It is not on your ship, Zang. Do not think you can deceive me.”

  “Of course not, Kuan,” she said, mirroring his use of her family name without honorific, by using his given name in a familiar way she did not feel. “I would not dream of trying to fool you in such a transparent way.”

  “You could not have hidden it.”

  “What’s the hardest thing to find, Kuan-Yin Sun?”

  “Don’t waste my time with philosophical riddles.”

  Half a dozen children ran across the road in front of them, playing a game of tag. They paused for a moment, staring at the strange group. One of the younger ones stretched out his hand to beg. But an older girl had seen the way Sun held his hands and Qi’s arm; she dragged the younger boy back and said something in the local language. The children ran on without a backward glance.

  “I’m not wasting your time. The thing you cannot find is the thing that is not there.” She turned her head towards him and smiled. “Your prize was never
on the Beauty.”

  He frowned as he absorbed her words. She knew he wasn’t stupid; this was the trickiest part of the plan.

  “But you tried to sell it.”

  “Have you ever seen a magician at work? The way they make you look at one hand while doing the trick with the other?”

  He thought it through. “You wanted me to think you’d sold it.” She settled back but he wasn’t finished. “Why?”

  Yes. Why? That was a good question. She had hoped he wouldn’t make it that far in the reasoning. “Who said I was selling your item?”

  She held her breath. He said nothing. They came round a corner and saw the gate to the air-dock ahead of them.

  “I can get you in, Sun, but not your friends.”

  “I still have the gun,” he said as he placed it in a pocket, keeping his hand on it.

  “That’s not something I’d forget.”

  xii

  Qi could have made a run for it as they moved through the gaps between the administrative buildings. The comfortable life of an administrator—albeit for a crime gang—had made Sun soft. He might be able to put a bullet in her, but the risk of that at the air-dock, surrounded by the British? He was unlikely to try. However, running would not help; under no circumstances would she abandon the Beauty. She corrected herself: well, perhaps in death. But she had always imagined that she and the Frozen Beauty would die together.

  She shook herself. No one was going to die today. If Fanning had completed her mission successfully and delivered the vase, all would be well.

  The buildings of the air-dock had not been constructed with the usual flair of the British. They were brick rather than stone and had little ornamentation. Their most striking feature was the arches over the windows.

  They stood to the side as a fleet of Army steamlorries huffed by. She was amused by the way Sun tried to hide his face. She had no qualms; she had always been honest with the British—even the Excise men. At least, she’d never been caught in a lie, and that was the same thing as honesty.