Murder in Canton

IX

The next morning Chiao Tai woke up before dawn. He washed quickly by the light of the single candle supplied by the inn, then dressed. About to slip his coat of mail over his head, he hesitated. He threw the heavy coat on the chair, and put on instead an iron-plated vest. 'My medicine against a sudden pain in the back!’ he muttered, putting on his brown robe over the vest. After he had wound the long black sash round his waist and put on his black cap, he went downstairs and told the yawning innkeeper that when a litter came for him, the innkeeper should tell the bearers to wait for his return. Then he went outside.

In the semi-dark street he bought four oil-cakes, hot from the portable stove which the hawker was fanning vigorously. Munch­ing them contentedly, he walked down to the Kuei-te Gate. On arrival at the quay, he saw that the red rays of dawn were colour­ing the masts of the craft moored alongside. Mansur's ship was gone.

A troup of vegetable dealers filed past him, each carrying on a pole across his shoulders two baskets loaded with cabbage. Chiao Tai accosted the last one, and after some complicated haggling in sign language bought the whole lot, including the carrying pole, for seventy coppers. The man trotted off singing a Cantonese ditty, happy that he had overcharged a northerner, and saved himself the long trip to the boats into the bargain.

Chiao Tai shouldered the carrying pole and stepped on to the stern of the first boat alongside the quay. From there he went over to the next, and on to the third. He had to tread warily, for the mist had made the narrow planks connecting the boats rather slippery, and the boat people apparently considered the gangboards the proper place for cleaning fish. Chiao Tai cursed under his breath, for on many boats slatternly women were emptying buckets of night-soil into the muddy river, and the stench was overpowering. Here and there a cook hailed him, but he dis­regarded them. He wanted to find the dancer first, then have a closer look at the waterfolk. Thinking of Zumurrud gave him a queer tight feeling in his throat.

It was still fairly cool and his load was not too heavy, but being unaccustomed to this particular method of carrying things he was soon perspiring profusely. On the stem of a small boat he halted and had a look around. He couldn't see the city wall any more, for he was surrounded on all sides by a forest of masts and stakes, hung with fishing nets and wet laundry. The men and women moving about on the boats seemed a race apart. The men had short legs but long, muscular arms that accentuated then-swift, loping walk. Their high cheekbones jutted out from their swarthy faces, and their flat noses had wide, flaring nostrils. Some of the young women were rather pretty in a coarse way; they had round faces and large, quick eyes. Squatting on the gangways of the Tanka boats and beating the laundry with heavy round sticks, they were busily chattering together in a guttural language that sounded completely unfamiliar.

Although men and women alike studiously ignored Chiao Tai, he had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being stealthily observed all the time. 'Must be because few Chinese come here!’ he muttered. 'Those ugly dwarfs stare at me as soon as my back is turned!’ He was glad when at last he saw a narrow strip of open water ahead. A bamboo bridge led to a long row of large, gaudily painted Chinese junks, anchored stem to stern. Alongside the first row was a second, then a third, connected by broad gang­ways provided with banisters. The fourth row was the last, close to midstream. Chiao Tai climbed onto the stern of the nearest junk and saw the broad expanse of the Pearl River. He could just discern the masts of the craft moored alongside the opposite bank. He counted and found he was on the third boat of the fourth row. The ship heading it was as large as a war junk. Its high masts were decorated with silk banners, and all along the eaves of the cabins hung limp garlands of coloured lampions, swaying to and fro in the faint morning breeze. He got on board by walking along the narrow side decks of the intervening junk, carefully balancing his baskets.

Three sleepy-eyed waiters were loitering near the hatch. They gave him a casual look and resumed their conversation as he brushed past them and entered the dark passage ahead. It was lined with shabby doors and a nauseating smell of cheap frying fat hung in the air. As there was no one about, he quickly put down his baskets and went on to the hind deck.

A plain girl wearing only a soiled skirt was sitting cross-legged on the wooden bench, paring her toenails. She gave him an in­different glance and didn't even bother to pull her skirt down. Things looked rather dreary, but Chiao Tai's spirits rose when he arrived midships. On the other side of the neatly scrubbed deck he saw a high double door, lacquered a bright red. A fat man in a nightrobe of costly brocade was standing at the railing, gargling noisily. A sullen-looking young woman in a rumpled white gown held the tea-bowl for him. Suddenly the man retched and vomited, partly over the railing, partly over the girl's dress.

'Cheer up, dearie!’ Chiao Tai told her in passing. 'Think of the fat commission you'll get on last night's wine bill!’

Ignoring her angry retort, he slipped inside. The passage was dimly lit by white silk lampions suspended from the curved rafters. Chiao Tai studied the names inscribed on the lacquered doors. 'Spring Dream', 'Willow Branch', 'Jade Flower' — all names of courtesans, but none that could be a Chinese rendering of the name Zumurrud. The last door, at the end of the passage, bore no name, but it was elaborately decorated with miniature paintings of birds and flowers. Trying the knob, he found the door was not locked. He pushed it open and quickly stepped inside.

The semi-dark room was much larger than an ordinary cabin, and luxuriously appointed. A smell of musk hung heavily in the close air.

'Since you are here, why not come closer?' the dancer's voice spoke.

Now that his eyes had become adjusted to the light, he dis­cerned in the rear of the room a high bedstead, with red curtains half-drawn. Zumurrud was there, reclining naked against a bro­cade pillow. She wore no make-up and her only jewelry was a necklace of blue beads set in gold filigree.

Chiao Tai went over to her. Confused by her breathtaking beauty, he was at a loss for words. At last he blurted out:

'Where's that emerald?'

'I only wear it when dancing, you silly fool! I just had my bath. You better have one too, you are covered with sweat. Behind the blue curtain there!’

He picked his way through the chairs and tables that stood about on the thick pile carpet. Behind the blue curtain was a small but elegant bathroom, decorated in plain, beautifully grained wood. He quickly stripped, squatted down by the tub of hot water and sluiced himself using the small wooden pail. While rubbing himself dry with the lining of his robe, he noticed a box containing sticks of liquorice lying ready on the dressing-table. He took one, chewed the end into the required shape and carefully brushed his teeth. Then he hung his robe and vest on the bamboo clothes rack and stepped back into the room, clad only in his baggy trousers, his muscular, scarred torso bare. Pulling up a chair to the bedstead, he said gruffly:

'I accepted last night's invitation, as you see.'

'You certainly lost no time getting here!’ she remarked dryly. 'Anyway, you were wise in choosing the early morning, for that's the only time I can receive visitors.'

'Why?'

'Because I am not an ordinary courtesan, my friend. Whatever insulting remarks that rat Mansur may make. I am not for sale, for I have a permanent patron. A wealthy fellow, as you can see from all this.' She indicated the surroundings with a sweeping gesture of her rounded arm, then added, 'He doesn't take kindly to rivals.'

CHIAO TAI VISITS THE SMARAGDINE DANCER

'I am here on official business,' Chiao Tai said stiffly. 'Who says I am a rival?'

'I do.' She put her hands behind her head and stretched herself. She yawned, then darted a quick glance at him from her large eyes and asked crossly, 'Well, what are you waiting for? Are you one of those tiresome men who have to first consult the calendar to see whether the day and hour are auspicious?'

He got up and clasped her lithe body in his arms. In the course of his long and varied amorous career he had experienced many different types of love. Now for the first time, he experienced a love that was not only different, but final. Zumurrud fulfilled some indefinable need deep inside him, stirred something he had never even been aware of, but now suddenly recognized as the root of his entire being. He knew that he could not live without this woman — and wasn't even astonished at the discovery.

Afterwards they took a quick bath together. When she had put on a thin robe of blue gauze, she helped Chiao Tai dress. She cocked her head at the iron-plated vest but refrained from com­ment. Back in the cabin she motioned him to be seated at the small tea-table of carved rosewood and said casually:

'Having disposed of that now, you'd better tell me something more about yourself. There isn't much time, for presently my maid will come in, and she's one of my patron's paid spies.'

'I'd rather hear more about you! I know next to nothing about your Arab people. Are you ...'

'The Arabs are not my people,' she interrupted curtly. 'My father was an Arab, but my mother a cheap Tanka harlot. Does that shock you?'

'Not me! Working in a brothel is just another profession, and what do I care about race or colour? All people are bound to become Chinese anyway, sooner or later. Whether they are brown, blue or black! If a man is good at fighting, and a woman good at making love, they are all right, as far as I am concerned!'

'Well, that's something, at least! My father was an Arab sailor. When he went back to his country, he left my mother with child. Me.' She poured a cup of tea for him and went on, 'I entered the trade at fifteen. I showed promise, so my mother was able to sell me to a larger flowerboat. I had to receive custom­ers, and in my spare time serve the Chinese courtesans. Maltreat­ing me was a favourite amusement of those nasty bitches!’

'They didn't treat you too badly though,' Chiao Tai remarked coarsely. 'There isn't a scar on your lovely body!’

'Nothing so crude as whipping or caning,' she said bitterly. 'The boss had forbidden them to mark me, because he saw big money in my future. So the bitches hung me by my hair from the rafters and stuck hot needles in me, just to while away a slack evening. And when they got really bored, they would tie me up with a large centipede in my trousers. Its bite doesn't show either, only you're kept guessing where exactly it'll bite! I've had it, all of it.' She shrugged. 'Never mind, that's all past and done with now. I got myself a patron who bought me out and rented these fine quarters for me. The only work I do is dancing at parties, and the money I earn he lets me keep. Mansur offered to take me back with him to his country and make me his first wife. But I don't like him, and I don't like my dear father's country, from what I have heard of it. See me sitting in a tent in the burning desert, with camels and asses for company? Thank you kindly!'

'Do you care a lot for your patron?'

'For him? Heavens no! But he's wealthy, and generous too. As nasty as they make 'em though.' She paused, pensively scratching the lobe of her ear. 'I cared for one man only, and he was head over ears in love with me too. But I acted like a damn fool, and spoiled everything.' Her wide eyes stared past him with a sombre glow.

Chiao Tai put his arm round her waist. 'You were very kind to me just now!’ he said, hopefully.

She pushed him away and snapped impatiently, 'Leave me alone! You just got all you wanted, didn't you? I groaned and panted at the right moments, and wriggled like an eel. You got it, complete with all the trimmings, so don't expect me to go on billing and cooing now! Besides, you aren't my type at all. I like refined gentlemen, not common bruisers like you.'

'Well,' Chiao Tai said uncertainly, 'I may seem just a bruiser, but I...'

'Save your trouble! I have learned to take men for what they seem to be. What do I care for what they think they are? If you want a real long and cosy talk about yourself, you'd better hire a nursemaid. So, let's get down to business. I went for you because you happen to be a colonel of the Imperial Guard, and according to Mansur the right-hand man of the President of the Metropolitan Court. That means that you could arrange that I get Chinese citizenship. You realize that I am legally a pariah, don't you? A Tanka woman, not allowed to marry a Chinese, not allowed even to dwell on Chinese soil?'

'So that's why your patron established you on this boat!’

'You certainly have an alert mind!’ she scoffed. 'Of course he could not give me a house ashore. He is rolling in money, but he has no official position. But you are from the capital, and your boss is the highest judge in the land. Take me with you to the capital, see to it that I get Chinese citizenship, then introduce me to some really important men. The rest you can leave to me.' She half-closed her eyes and went on with a slow smile, 'To be a real Chinese lady, wear brocade dresses, have my own Chinese chambermaids, my own garden...' Suddenly she added in an im­personal voice, 'In the meantime, as a reward, I shall serve you as well as I can. And after our bout behind the curtains just now you'll agree that I know my job, I trust. Well, is it a deal?'

Her cold, frank words cut Chiao Tai to the quick. But he man­aged to answer in a steady voice:

'It's a deal!'

He told himself that he would succeed in making this woman fall in love with him. He must.

'Good. We'll have another meeting soon, to fix the details. My patron has a small house where he passes the afternoon with me when he's too busy to come here to the boat. It's to the south of the Kwang-siao Temple, in the west city. I'll send you a message as soon as the coast is clear. For you can't approach my patron, you see. Not yet. He wouldn't let me go, and he has an awful hold over me, could ruin me, if he chose to. Once you have spirited me away to the capital, however, I'll tell you who he is, so that you can let him have back the money he paid for me — in case your conscience should bother you!’

'You didn't commit a crime, did you?' Chiao Tai asked anxi­ously.

'I made an awful mistake, once.' She rose, pulled the thin robe close to her voluptuous body and said, 'Now you must really go, else there might be trouble. Where can I reach you?'

He told her the name of his inn, kissed her and left the cabin.

On deck he saw that the stern of the largest ship in the next row was within jumping reach. He sprang on board, then made the long journey back to the quay.

He re-entered the city by the Kuei-te Gate, and strolled to the Inn of the Five Immortals. In front of the gate stood a small litter. He asked the bearers whether it had been sent by Captain Nee. They came to their feet, shouting in unison that it had. He stepped inside and was swiftly carried away.