Since the departure of the British for Macao, only a handful of foreigners, mostly Americans, were still using the factories. The place was like a ghost town.
He went along the line of silent factories until he came to a modest doorway and entered.
Dr. Parker had just finished treating a Chinese patient. Shi-Rong asked to speak with him privately.
The Chinese never gave Parker any trouble. First, he was American, not English, and had nothing to do with the drug trade. Second, he treated them for ailments that their own doctors did not often cure. And third, they liked him because he was a good and honest man.
“I have come on behalf of Commissioner Lin,” Shi-Rong explained. “His Excellency does not wish to be seen coming here himself, nor does he wish you to be seen entering his house. This is because he prefers that his malady should not be public knowledge.” He paused and smiled. “It’s nothing shocking. He just wants to keep it to himself.”
“You may assure him of my discretion. May I ask the nature of his trouble?”
“The truth is,” said Shi-Rong, “that the commissioner has a hernia.”
“Ah. Well, in that case,” said Parker, “there are various things I can do. One would be to fit him with a truss. But it would be much better if I did it in person, and more comfortable for him.”
“I understand, and I will repeat what you have said. But he hopes you can send him one. Is there something he can adjust?”
Parker mulled over the situation. Then he said, “I’ve a fairly good idea of his height and weight. Let me make a proposal. Give me until tomorrow evening, and I’ll send over half a dozen trusses. He can try them on, select the one that fits best, and you can bring the others back to me in a day or two. I’ll pack them myself and send them tomorrow at dusk. I have a totally reliable messenger. He’ll deliver the parcel, and he’ll have no idea what’s in it.” He smiled. “But try to persuade him to let me see him.”
Shi-Rong thanked him and left. Commissioner Lin seemed well satisfied with the arrangements. After that, Shi-Rong went out for a meal with Fong.
* * *
◦
It was night when Nio slipped back into the camp. Though darkness had fallen, he knew the track so well that he’d almost been running, and he was still trembling with excitement when he arrived.
The camp was only ten miles away from Guangzhou, but so far it had remained a safe haven for Sea Dragon and his men. Half the crew came from the nearby village, so no one in the locality was going to give them away. Discreet bribes to the magistrate had ensured that the village was left alone; and even during the crackdown this year, the magistrate had still been able to warn them whenever a police raid was imminent.
But it was still a depressing place. Because there was nothing to do.
Since Lin’s destruction of the opium, the drug trade had virtually shut down. They heard of boats pulling into coastal creeks here and there with maybe a dozen chests they’d got their hands on. But out in the gulf, nothing. No smuggling, no income. For the moment, at least, Lin had won. How long could it last?
“Everyone wants opium,” Sea Dragon had declared. “I could deliver a boatload every day. Every village is crying out for it. Let’s hope the emperor gives this accursed Lin a promotion and sends him elsewhere.”
“Wouldn’t we get another commissioner, just as bad?” one of his men suggested.
“No,” Sea Dragon told him. “The emperor can send whom he likes. No other mandarin’s going to hold the trade back. Lin’s the only one who ever has or ever will. The question is,” he’d remark grimly, “how long’s he going to stay?”
Nio always wanted to kill the commissioner, but Sea Dragon only laughed. “That’s not such an easy thing to do, my young friend,” he’d tell Nio. “We might surprise him in the street one day. But he won’t be by himself, you know. There’ll be attendants, troops…The difficulty’s getting away.”
Sea Dragon had sent Nio into the city several times recently. Using Nio made sense. Not only was he intelligent, but thanks to his accent and dialect—which immediately told any townsman that he came from farther down the coast—nobody would associate him with Sea Dragon and his men. Nio had been glad to go. At least it was a relief from the boredom of the camp. His job was to find out all he could about Commissioner Lin’s next plans and to listen for any whisper about opium that might be smuggled in.
He’d known that Shi-Rong was Lin’s secretary for months, ever since a stallholder in the market had pointed the young noble out to him. He’d followed Shi-Rong several times to see what he could learn about him, and the last time he was in the city, he’d seen him with young Fong and learned that Fong was working for him. He wondered if he could engage Fong in conversation.
Today, Nio had seen the two men eat a meal together. Then he’d followed Fong to a teahouse, where he’d met some other young fellows. Luck was on his side. He’d found a seat at the next table where he could eavesdrop on their conversation.
And before he’d finished drinking his tea, he’d realized how he could kill Commissioner Lin.
* * *
◦
Shi-Rong had a sleepless night. Again and again he tossed and turned on his bed. It was all he could do not to cry out aloud. How could he have been so stupid?
The one thing the commissioner had asked of him. Lin, to whom he owed everything. He’d asked for discretion, privacy. And what had he done?
In a moment of foolishness, he’d told young Fong about the truss. Sworn him to secrecy, of course. Of course! But what good was that? If I had a wife, Shi-Rong thought, I’d have told her. But that would have been different. He’d told Fong, a young bachelor who went out with his friends every night. That was always the way of it. You confide a secret to a friend, make him promise not to tell; then he does the same thing; and in an hour everybody knows.
How could he have been so stupid? So weak. If it got back to Lin, then he’d have lost his mentor’s trust forever. He’d be finished. His career over, for the rest of his life. And he’d have deserved it. He buried his face in his hands; he rocked his head; he clenched his fists in frustration and agony.
He was up at dawn. He had to find Fong. That was the first thing. But Fong was not at his lodgings, nor was there any sign of him in the streets. And after an hour Shi-Rong had to give up, because Commissioner Lin would be expecting him.
“He’s in a bad mood,” a servant warned him as Shi-Rong entered the big building.
Was the commissioner’s hernia troubling him? Had Fong already talked? Did Lin know? Inwardly trembling, Shi-Rong went into the office and was greatly relieved when his mentor indicated that he should sit down, and then began: “Today, Jiang, the British barbarians have shown themselves for what they really are.”
“What is that, Excellency?”
“You remember, before they left Guangzhou, I demanded they sign a guarantee not to ship any more opium to the Celestial Kingdom?”
“Of course, Excellency. Some of them signed, I recall, including Matheson, though Elliot refused to sign.”
“Did you think they meant to keep their word?”
“If you will forgive me, Excellency, I didn’t.”
“One should assume a man is honest until he proves he is not. When Elliot refused to sign, I asked myself: Why does he refuse? And it occurred to me that perhaps he knows the merchants are lying and he wants no part of a shameful business.”
“If I may say so, Excellency,” Shi-Rong ventured, “I believe you were imputing your own high virtue to Elliot, who may not be worthy of it.”
“Recently, as you know,” Lin continued, “we have had the disgraceful case of these British sailors murdering an innocent peasant on Chinese soil. I have rightly demanded the culprit be surrendered to us for justice. Today Elliot has refused. He has declared that he will try his own men, but that I may send an observer.”
“That is an impertinence to the Celestial Kingdom, Excellency.”
“Even more than that, Jiang. I have discovered that according to their own laws, these barbarian countries agree that if an offense like this is committed by one of their people in another country, then he should be tried and punished by the courts of the country where the crime took place. Yet now, in the Celestial Kingdom, which is so much greater, more ancient, and more moral than their own country, they refuse to obey even their own law. The merchants, I knew, were no better than pirates. Now I know that their government official has a contempt for all law and justice, even his own. This cannot be tolerated. I may soon have a new mission for you.”
“Whatever you command, Excellency.” A mark of further trust. Good news indeed. Shi-Rong bowed to the great man and was starting to withdraw when the commissioner interrupted him.
“The trusses. They come this evening?”
“They do, Excellency.” He bowed again and went about his work.
It was late afternoon before he could go out in search of Fong again.
* * *
—
Fong was at his lodgings. He didn’t look too well. Shi-Rong wasted no time. “Tell me exactly what you have been doing since we parted yesterday.”
“I met some friends. We went out drinking baijiu,” Fong confessed sheepishly. Baijiu, strong spirits made from grain in the north and from rice down here.
“Then?”
“We went to a teahouse.”
“Were you drunk?”
“Not then. Later.” Fong shook his head sadly. “I slept until afternoon. My head still hurts.”
“Fool. Think hard: Did you tell anyone what I told you about Commissioner Lin?”
“No. Absolutely not. Never…”
“You are lying.”
“No.” Plaintively. He was lying.
“If word ever reaches Lin that I told you his secret,” said Shi-Rong, “then I’ll be finished. And if that happens, Fong, I’ll take you with me. I’ll destroy you. You understand? I may kill you.” He meant it. Fong looked frightened. “You know the irony?” Shi-Rong went on. “It turns out Lin didn’t have a hernia at all. A Chinese physician gave him acupuncture last night and the pain went away. The trusses are canceled. If you told anyone, make sure they know that right away.”
It wasn’t true, of course. But with luck it would kill the story.
His next errand was to get to Dr. Parker. If Parker never sent the messenger with the trusses, no one would see the package leave the hospital or arrive at Lin’s headquarters. Extra insurance against the story. He’d take the trusses himself, secrete them on his person, and get them in to his chief unnoticed.
Dusk was falling. He had to hurry. He got to Thirteen Factory Street and turned into Hog Lane.
The lane was usually deserted these days, so he was slightly surprised to see a small knot of men gathered halfway down the lane. As they saw him coming, they started to move up the lane towards the main street, bowing very respectfully as he passed.
Parker was still at the hospital. But when Shi-Rong asked him for the trusses, the missionary looked surprised. “My man just set off with them a couple of minutes ago. You must have met him, I should think.”
“Was he with a group of others?”
“No. Quite alone.”
Shi-Rong frowned and hurried out. He’d be lucky to catch the man now. He almost ran up Hog Lane.
And was halfway up it when, in front of him, a terrible apparition appeared. A figure was emerging from behind one of the boarded-up stalls. The old man was deathly pale. Blood streamed from his head. With one hand he tried to steady himself against the side of the stall. The other clutched his abdomen, from which blood was oozing. He’d been stabbed. Seeing Shi-Rong, he made a croaking sound. “Help me.”
“Did you come from Dr. Parker?” Shi-Rong cried.
“Yes. Please help me.”
But Shi-Rong had guessed it all now, with a horrible flash of clarity. If he was right, there was no time to lose. He turned and ran, panic-stricken, towards the main street.
* * *
◦
Things hadn’t gone the way Nio had planned. His first disappointment had come the night before.
“Your idea may work,” the pirate had said after Nio had told him about the delivery of the trusses. “Lin expects the delivery. The messenger tells the guards he’s come to see the commissioner in private. Lin will say yes, send him in. More discreet. Messenger gives him the package. He takes it. Before he knows what’s happening, the messenger’s hand is over his mouth, the knife’s in his heart. Nobody even knows what happened. Open the door, bow, close the door, leave.” He nodded. “Dangerous, but worth a try.”
“I can do it,” Nio said excitedly. “I won’t let you down.”
Sea Dragon stared at him in surprise, then shook his head. “The man who kills Lin will be a hero all along the coast. All over southern China.” He smiled. “Sea Dragon will be the hero. Not you.”
“But…” Nio’s face fell. “I was going…” A look from the pirate, however, told him it was more than his life was worth to argue. “You’re the boss,” he said sadly.
“First we have to get the package from the messenger. We take two, maybe three men.” The pirate looked thoughtful. “Where to do it? If we can be seen, it won’t work.”
“I thought of that,” said Nio. “He’ll come up Hog Lane. Lin had the stalls boarded up. It’s usually empty.”
“Good.” Sea Dragon gave him a nod of approval. “You grab the messenger. Knock him out. We push him behind the stalls. I take his place and carry the package to Lin.”
“Do we go with you?”
“No. The messenger is expected alone.” Sea Dragon considered. “You and the men follow. A little way behind, so nobody thinks you’re with me. Hang about near the gates, but not all together. Everything has to look normal. Wait until I come out.”
“And then?”
“If I walk out, do nothing. Once I’m round the corner, split up. Everyone go in a different direction, and we meet later, outside the city.”
“And if they’re chasing you?”
“Run after me. Pretend you’re trying to help the guards catch me, but get in their way, fall over, trip them, so I can get away. Then split up and meet later, the same way. Can you do that?”
They’d rehearsed the whole thing, twice, out at the camp in the morning.
“If something goes wrong, do what I say and be ready to scatter,” Sea Dragon ordered. “But I think it’s going to work.”
They got to the city early that afternoon. First they worked out their escape routes. Here, the commissioner’s decision to set up his headquarters in Thirteen Factory Street was helpful, since the street lay just outside the city walls, whose eight gates were shut at night. Even if darkness had fallen, they wouldn’t be trapped in the city, and there were a dozen paths they could take out into the shantytowns and the waste ground along the river.
Then Nio and Sea Dragon inspected Hog Lane. Halfway down, there was a small alley where three or four men could hide. A few minutes more of discreetly working loose the boards in front of the stall beside it, and they had a space in which to dump the messenger. “All we need now,” said Sea Dragon, “is to place the lookouts.” Nio found a spot on the waterfront where he could watch the entrance to Dr. Parker’s little hospital. Sea Dragon could position himself in a doorway near the foot of Hog Lane. The two other men would wait in the alley. “You signal me as he leaves the hospital,” the pirate told Nio. “And I’ll slip up the lane.”
They separated after that. Nio went to a teahouse before returning, a little before dusk, to the waterfront.
* * *
—
For the first minutes, everything had gone so smoothly. There wasn’t a soul abo
ut. Sitting behind a big mooring post by the waterside, Nio had a thick, heavy club, about the length of a rolling pin, on the ground beside him. Just as dusk began, he saw the messenger. There was no mistaking him. He was quite an old man, though he still looked spry. He came out of Hog Lane and went swiftly down the line of empty factories to Parker’s door.
He was in there only a few moments. When he came out, he was slightly bent forward, with the package hoisted on his back. It looked bulky rather than heavy. As soon as the old man’s back was turned to him, Nio grabbed his club in one hand, stood up, and with his other hand waved a white cloth towards the place where Sea Dragon was waiting. Instantly, he saw the pirate slip like a shadow into the lane. Moving silently, Nio had followed. When the old man turned into the lane, he clutched the club tightly to his chest and started to run, as fast as he could, to catch up with him. He entered the lane. Apart from the old man, it was empty. He raced up the lane. Would the old fellow hear him? He saw him hesitate. Was he going to turn? No. He’d seen Sea Dragon step out in front of him. The pirate was bowing politely. Clever fellow. Only fifteen yards to go. The old man was about to pass. Sea Dragon grabbed his hands. The old man cried out.
He was there. He cracked the club on the side of the old man’s head. Tock! The sound seemed to fill the lane. But he’d judged it well. The old man went down, smacking into the ground. He was out cold.
The two other men were already out of the alleyway. They tore the package off the old man’s back and thrust it at Sea Dragon. They picked up the old man. His body was limp. And they were about to throw him into the stall when Sea Dragon stopped them. “He saw my face.” He turned to Nio. “Show me your knife.” Nio pulled it out. “Good. Kill him.”
“Kill him?” Nio looked up and down the lane. Empty. Nobody even looking in. But he hesitated.
If they were attacked by a war junk when they were smuggling, he wouldn’t mind killing. That was the game. Everyone knew it. The thought of killing Lin never worried him, either. Lin was a mandarin from the north, nothing to do with him or his people. And he was trying to destroy a local trade. Let him die. Who cared?
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