by L G Rollins
When Jasper had awoken this morning to yet another demand from his agent that he be working on his next art gallery, Jasper had chosen to take a break from trying to figure out the ambassador and flush out the last details of this new idea. Mrs. Zhi was looking particularly drawn out as well. So, he sent her home early and decided to try losing himself in some new art. With any luck, after this break, Jasper would be able to come at the dilemma with Leng afresh.
“So, why are you hiding?” Tom kept his voice to a whisper, following Jasper’s example.
“I’m trying out a new chemical compound. See that paper out there?”
Tom squinted hard, then shrugged. “I guess so.”
Did the boy need spectacles? Jasper would have to speak with Tressa and make sure a doctor was brought to the orphanage so that Tom could be tested.
That brought with it another thought. “Are you skipping out on classes again?” All the children in the care of Westwood Orphanage had classes first thing in the morning. Jasper had endured it for all his growing-up years and he had it on good authority—namely his sister who was now head of the board at Westwood—that such had not changed.
Tom shrugged again, but this time it was less carefree and far more guilty. “Suppose so.”
“Won’t your teacher be missing you?” Jasper pressed.
Tom’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “He always does.” He looked up at Jasper with large eyes. “Why can’t a boy go a ‘sploring town without getting a boring old talking to?”
Jasper chuckled. Even though he knew his sister had changed much of the discipline dealt out in Westwood, it was still good to hear that the boy was only facing a talking to and not a switch stick. Jasper had more than one scar on his hands, arms, and back from his childhood.
Jasper patted the boy on the back. At the touch, Jasper couldn’t help but notice the boy’s smile light up. “Well, if this works the way I’m hoping it will, it’ll be worth the talking to.”
“You’re not gonna say I have to go back? I can stay?”
“Why not?” Jasper had hated his morning lessons just as much as Tom seemed to. If the boy wasn’t facing a beating for skipping, Jasper didn’t see why the boy couldn’t satisfy his curiosity of life instead of being stuffed inside a classroom all day.
“Now,” Jasper said, pointing toward the long sheet of paper. “I’ve coated it with a chemical compound a friend of mine made up.” He’d called it a mordant or something similar. Of course, calling the man a ‘friend’ was a bit of a stretch. They’d both grown up in Westwood together, but the man had turned to less honorable practices with his love of chemicals and compounds as he’d moved on. Jasper mostly ignored the hints at what else the man was doing and only contacted him when he needed something unique for his art.
“As people walk by,” Jasper continued, “they’ll track bits of dirt or the like over the paper. The compound will mix with the dirt and turn it different colors.”
“I want to try!” Tom leapt up and darted out from their hiding place. He skipped and danced, spinning about more than once, as he crossed over the paper.
Stopping mid-paper, Tom looked over the area he’d already trampled on and scowled. “It’s not working.”
That little scamp, he was going to ruin the whole project if he didn’t come back and hide. Jasper waved him back over.
Tom obeyed, plopping himself down next to Jasper again. “I don’t get it. My shoes are dirty.”
Jasper glanced down at them; dirty they certainly were. “The footprints won’t show until I place the second chemical compound over the top.” Though it was still early enough that the street was empty, Jasper kept his voice low in case someone was to show up.
An older gentleman turned the corner and began striding toward the section of sidewalk covered in paper.
“Shh.” Jasper placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder, pushing him down yet lower to the ground.
For the next couple of hours, Jasper and Tom stayed huddled behind the shrub, watching people pass by. No one noticed the paper. Jasper couldn’t wait to return home and begin changing the collected footprints into a work of art.
Tom sat surprisingly still and quiet. Then again, when his other option was to return to class, Jasper thought it a reasonable response.
A tall, black-haired man hobbled across the sidewalk. Jasper watched the way his left leg dragged slightly with each step. That would make a most interesting imprint. He only would leave the paper out for a few more passersby and then he’d hurry home and get to bringing out the colors.
This piece probably wouldn’t be his highest selling item—it wasn’t elegant or beautiful in the same way his paintings or sculptures tended to be. But it would be a new and fascinating way of looking at how people walk. More than that, it was a reflection on where individuals choose to take themselves and what kind of imprint they leave behind.
The dark-haired man reached the end of the paper, oblivious to his mark, and Jasper’s gaze left the man’s feet, moving up toward his head and retreating back.
Jasper’s muscles tensed across his shoulders. It was the same man who’d tailed him a few days previous. Mr. Zhi had said that the ambassador had not put a different tail on Jasper since he’d slipped away from his last one—the man who was hobbling down the street now.
Jasper half-rose. What was the man up to now? Had Ambassador Leng dispensed of the man since Jasper had slipped away from him? Or was he out looking for Jasper? Ordered to do some other bidding of the ambassador?
“Are we done?” Tom’s small voice made him pause. He glanced down at little Tom; not for the world would he drag the boy into anything dangerous.
Jasper shook his head. “I think we’d best take a bit of a break. You head back to Westwood. I’m just going for a short stroll.”
Tom jumped to his feet. “I’ll walk with you.”
“No.” Jasper’s word came out a bit harsher than he anticipated. Tom paused, his face falling. Jasper glanced over—the tail was quickly disappearing down the street. He needed to hurry or he’d lose the man.
Turning back to Tom, he put his hands on either of the boy’s shoulders. “You’ve been a great help already this morning.” That’s what you told children, right? Jasper didn’t have experience and wasn’t ever planning on gaining said experience. He could only follow his gut. “You head back to Westwood, make sure no one’s worried sick over you disappearing again.”
Tom wriggled under Jasper’s hands. The boy’s shoulders felt small and boney. Tom opened his mouth, apparently ready to object. Before he could, Jasper added, “I promise if you do, I’ll come by Westwood tomorrow and pick you up and . . .” And what? He’d never once tried to think of an activity he could do with a child in tow. “You can help me finish the art project.” That’s what he was planning on already for tomorrow. After today’s treatment the paper would need to dry before the second. Tom could help with that, right?
Tom’s eyes lit up. “You’ll come to Westwood and get me? You promise?”
Gads, he had no idea the boy would get that excited over it. It seemed a bit foolish, even for one so young as Tom. Then again—a hint of guilt pricked at Jasper—Tom followed him around plenty of times, yet this was the first time Jasper had ever offered to elicit them spending some time together.
Why hadn’t he done so before now?
Blast—the tail was getting away. He needed to stay focused. “Yes, I promise. Hurry back now, understand?”
Tom nodded eagerly and ran off. Jasper hurried as well. The tail was already out of sight, but Jasper knew which direction he had been heading. With any luck, he would be able to find the man before he turned down another road.
Jasper’s long strides proved enough and after only a couple minutes he caught sight of the dark-haired tail down the street. The tail turned to the right, taking another wide, well populated street. Jasper quickened his run. Thank the gears above he’d caught up to the man before he’d made his turn. Jasper never would have
found him if he hadn’t.
Jasper kept far enough back he hoped the man wouldn’t spot him, but close enough to not lose sight of him. Tailing and spying was actually one career Jasper had never considered—why was that? He’d considered, and tried, just about everything else under the sun.
The dark-haired man turned left next. Jasper followed, keeping several people between him and the man. Where was he heading? Certainly not toward Jasper’s home; that lay in nearly the opposite direction. Moreover, what had caused his limp? Jasper was certain the man hadn’t been limping a few days before. Now that Jasper studied him closer, he could see that the man also kept his left arm close to his side. It seemed the man had met with an unfavorable circumstance. Had he been beset by thieves? Or was this the hand of Ambassador Leng? Punishment for losing track of Jasper the other day?
They rounded another corner. Jasper glanced around him at the shops, at their bright displays and strange names. He knew this street. The dance school was only a few strides away. Jasper’s hands went cold. That had to be where the man was headed.
And if that’s where he was headed, then he had to be working for Ambassador Leng. Jasper hurried his pace, drawing up closer to the man. Mr. Zhi’s warning voice, urging Jasper to protect his wife and daughter, rang through Jasper’s head over and over, like the tolling of the death knells.
Jasper would not allow this man, or anyone the ambassador would send, to hurt either of the Zhis.
The man hobbled up close to the dance school, then paused and glanced over his shoulder. Jasper ducked behind the wall of another shop. No doubt, even a cursory glimpse of Jasper would give him away.
Jasper breathed, his back pressed against the wall of the shop, and waited a moment. He peered back around the corner. The man was gone. Jasper cursed under his breath and hurried back out into the street. The man couldn’t have gone far. Jasper was certain his end target was the dance school; turning down this particular street and pausing just in front of it could not be a coincidence.
Jasper skidded to a stop just to the side of the dance school and glanced down the alley. It was empty. He hurried down it, slowing as he reached the back. The man was there, slipping through a pried open window. His head and then hands disappeared. Jasper was known well enough now at the school that he could go back around and walk in through the front doors. But, if he wasted time doing that, he risked losing the tail.
Jasper pushed himself through the barely opened window. The room he landed in was dark, only lit by what light filtered in behind him. There were chairs and odds and ends stacked up along each wall. This was the room he’d first met Ju in the night she’d been beset by that rat. Jasper clenched his hands. Every time he’d thought of that incident, he felt an overwhelming rush of heated protectiveness. No one would be allowed to hurt Ju while he was around.
Now, though, there was another man. Here, either to harm Ju, or Liling. Jasper wasn’t sure of the man’s exact plans, but he knew he wouldn’t allow them to be executed. Jasper hurried through the room and banged the door open. The time to sneak and tail was over. He was going to take the man down before he could do anything to anyone.
The man stood at the end of the hall, near where it opened up to the dance floor. At the sound of the door hitting the wall, he whirled around and raised a gun.
Jasper threw himself to the side of the hall. A bang echoed around them and he felt the whiz of a bullet flying by where he had been standing.
The man didn’t wait to see if he’d hit Jasper or not but hobbled out of sight. Jasper charged after him. He rounded the bend and threw himself at the man. His arms wrapped about the man’s middle and they both went down.
Female cries echoed about him. Jasper didn’t stop to see just how many dancers filled the room. The man twisted in his grip, getting his gun hand out. Instead of aiming it at Jasper, however, he pointed it up and over his head.
Jasper let go of him and, pushing off with his feet, he reached with both hands for the gun. His palms hit the cold steel, forcing it down, just as the gun went off. The gunshot roared and smoke filled the space in front of Jasper.
Jasper brought up his knee and smacked the man in the face. The man went limp. The room was still except for a few people he could hear crying. Jasper glanced up. As the smoke dissipated, he saw a smoldering bullet hole several paces in front of him, deep in the dance floor.
Jasper sighed with relief. The bullet had only hit the floor; the dancers were all safe. But why come here in the first place? Jasper looked up, toward the direction the gun had been aimed.
Standing, with eyes wide and skin far more pale than usual, was Mrs. Zhi. She, then, had been his target. Anger that this man had meant to kill such a kind, elderly woman mingled in his gut with relief that he’d followed and stopped him. Jasper glanced under him. The man still wasn’t moving. At least he was out for the count now. But there was no guarantee the man would stay unconscious for long.
Jasper stood. All around him, young dancers hugged each other and cried. Very young dancers. Most of these girls looked like they couldn’t have been fifteen yet. Poor dears, they must be terrified.
“It’s all right.” Jasper tried to use a calming voice, but it wasn’t exactly a tone he’d had much practice using. “He’s not going to hurt anyone.”
“Mr. Wimple.” Wei shu stomped her way over to him, a finger shaking at the unconscious man’s form. “I demand to know the meaning of this!”
Lud, Jasper wasn’t about to tell her everything; certainly he wasn’t going to dictate to her all about Mr. Zhi and the ambassador. That would only put them in harm’s way. He settled on a half-truth. “I was coming over to visit again today and I saw this man snooping about. I didn’t trust the way he kept glancing over his shoulder so I followed him in. He slipped in through the window in your back room and then pulled a gun.”
Wei shu eyed him, eyebrows rising as he spoke. “Good heavens,” she finally said. Then she turned toward her students. “Girls, everyone to my office.”
Huddled together, they moved as one, all the girls filing their way into a side room. Mrs. Zhi had not moved. She still stood just outside the office door, no color in her face.
Jasper addressed Wei shu. “Have you any rope? Or strong cords?” He wanted to speak privately with Mrs. Zhi. The time to think was over. It was time to act. However, he couldn’t do anything until he saw to it that this man was removed from the dance school without hurting anyone.
Wei shu didn’t seem to need an explanation for his request. She nodded once. “I will get some for you right away.”
Jasper wasn’t about to walk away from the man, unconscious or no, so instead he raised a hand and beckoned Mrs. Zhi toward him. “We need to talk.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ju strode down the street, nodding to the few people she recognized as they passed her. Her smile, though, felt odd and fake on her lips. She only had to wait a couple more days, and then she could audition for Ginevra’s. Well, she could if all went as Master Chandler expected. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the older man with the single shocking streak of white hair. She was worried she couldn’t trust him to have her best interest at heart. But, at the same time, trusting him may be her only chance to get into the school. Perhaps she could just trust him a little?
Then there was Ambassador Leng to worry about. She’d learned much about the man since her midnight conversation with Jasper several days previous. Ju had visited the London Library and though she wasn’t able to take books out of the building—she wasn’t an associate after all—she’d spend several hours inside, reading, when she knew her mama was at Jasper’s. Ambassador Leng had made quite a name for himself. He appeared in several broadsheets and a few books had even been written about his life. Though the particulars of his childhood were vague—and probably invented—his life as an adult had been full.
Ju’s fingers batted at the lock charm hanging from the wide, thick bracelet about her wrist. The bracelet was w
ide enough that it hung about her hand more than her wrist, resting atop her thumb. It was the one her father had bought for her just before he was killed. After learning the truth about her father’s passing, she’d begun wearing it. Not without a tinge of guilt, though. Still, it made her feel less abandoned to have it dangling about her hand.
Ambassador Leng had already grown in wealth, power and favor with the Emperor of China by the time he would have murdered her father. Since then, he’d only accumulated more. Five years ago, he was recognized as being one of the most powerful men in China and was assigned to be an ambassador. Which is why he was in England now.
All she had read about Leng praised his sharp intellect and awed over how things always came together—sometimes almost magically—for the man. Ju knew there was less magic behind the ambassador’s success, and more foul play.
Ju slowly opened the door to Wei shu’s Dancing School and sighed. Would he come after Mama? If so, what were they to do about it? Working hard, pushing herself, putting on a happy face when exhausted for her Mama—these were all thing Ju knew quite well how to do.
But face an Ambassador who wanted her Mama dead?
This she had no idea how to handle.
The silence of the dance school made Ju’s foot slow as it crossed the threshold. The dancing school was never this quiet. Wasn’t there supposed to be a class going on right now? Where was the patter of slippered feet? The strict, deep tone of Wei shu ordering girls about?
Ju looked about the room. Where there should have been dancers atop a stage, there was nothing. Instead, only two forms stood in the center of the empty room. Two forms she recognized immediately.
Mama and Jasper.
Neither smiled. Mama seemed pale and Jasper spoke in a hushed, though decidedly impatient tone. Ju’s heartbeat quickened. What was wrong? Was Jasper the cause of Mama’s paleness? Ju didn’t care if Jasper had saved her or no. If he was ever unkind to Mama she would never forgive him.