The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure (106 page)

On most days Henry Manners would accompany them on these walks, keeping pace as he could with his game leg. A perceptive observer might have noticed a certain melancholy in his expression, except when he cast his eyes, as he frequently did, to the perambulator in which a well-wrapped little Catherine gazed up at the strange world passing over her head. Then a doting, almost wistful, quality would briefly animate his features, to be replaced, if anything, by an even greater melancholy when he looked away. George and Jenny would run and play with the scampering excitement of puppies off a leash, and sometimes Henry would join in their games, lifting—it took him an effort, these days—a giggling Jenny onto his broad shoulders as he had once done in that vanished world of Shishan, or reaching into his pockets to give George a daily souvenir, a carved seal, or an interesting stone and, once, a tile in the shape of a dragon's head. He appeared easier in the company of the children than the adults. When the latter walked together—the children off ahead—there was little conversation. What there was was inconsequential, remarks about the weather, admiring comments about the architecture, plans for the next day's sightseeing, but there was no animosity or tension either. The silence was comforting. Everything there was to say had been said, and they were relieved to be able to walk together in subdued familiarity, like old friends.

Sometimes Henry would have tea in the Hôtel de Pekin with them afterwards. Usually he made his excuses and returned to his house in the Chinese Quarter, where Fan Yimei would already have prepared his opium pipe. His expression when he was alone in his room was not of restrained melancholy but open and agonised despair.

On the penultimate day before their departure—all the shopping had been done, the packing finished, the arrangements made—they went for a stroll by the frozen lakes in the Hou Hai. The children skated. Nellie, Helen Frances and Henry sat on a bench and watched. Surreptitiously, so that Nellie would not notice, Helen Frances put her gloved hand into Henry's. He turned in surprise and saw the tears blurring her green eyes. She managed a smile. Tactfully, he turned away his head, looking rigidly to his front. They held hands until it was time to leave.

When they reached the Hôtel de Pekin, Helen Frances asked him if she could come back to his house. ‘Just for a short while, a cup of tea, perhaps. I'd like to take farewell of Lao Zhao and Fan Yimei. To thank them,' she said. Henry looked questioningly at Nellie.

Nellie smiled and pecked him on the cheek. ‘You two go ahead,' she said. ‘Henry, we'll say our goodbyes tomorrow when you come to see us off at the station.'

‘I won't be long, Nellie,' said Helen Frances.

‘You take just as long as you like,' she replied, bustling the children through the door.

Henry hailed a rickshaw. They sat stiffly together in the narrow seat, covered by a blanket against the cold. When they reached the uneven paving stones of Great Eastern Street, the rickshaw wobbled, and Helen Frances was bounced against Henry's chest. He put an arm round her to steady her, and kept it there. She nestled her head against his chest. He kissed her forehead. She lifted her face to look into his. Her mouth was slightly open and there was a soft, yearning look in her eyes. He kissed her gently, then more passionately. She responded, urgently. They passed under the ruins of the Hatamen Gate in full, desperate embrace.

Under the blanket, inside her fur coat, his hand rounded her waist, his fingers slipped into her waistband, and up, under her blouse, to fold around her breast. Her hand was inside his shirt, stroking his chest. Their lips were burning, their tongues entwined. They were oblivious of the amused stares from the passersby in the crowded streets of the Chinese city, as they jostled and peered with their usual curiosity inside the leather curtains. Their rickshaw coolie began to shout at a mule cart, which was blocking his way. Languorously, Helen Frances moved her head to rest on his shoulder. ‘This is mad, Henry,' she whispered. ‘It won't change anything,' but her hand was softly moving across his stomach. She sighed as she felt his finger knead her nipple. They kissed again.

They reached the gate of his house. Henry paid off the coolie who trotted away, grinning. Helen Frances was smiling at him. ‘Well, kind sir, and what plans do you have for this poor young widow-woman who's fallen under your spell again?' she whispered, resting her arms on his shoulders. He kissed her forehead, her nose and her lips. They hugged in the empty street. He took her hand, and pulled her after him. Playfully, she resisted, laughing. Suddenly he paused, in the act of reaching for the door-knocker. ‘That's odd,' he said. ‘The gate's been left open.'

She giggled, squeezing against him. ‘Maybe they knew we were coming,' she whispered.

The courtyard was empty. ‘Where is everyone?' he muttered, closing the creaking wooden door.

‘Don't call them. Not yet,' whispered Helen Frances, running her hand up his arm. She reached for his chin and pulled his mouth on to hers. They embraced tenderly, their bodies moving slowly against each other. Henry gently disengaged himself. ‘No, Helen Frances, something is wrong. Lao Zhao should be here.' His face was showing concern. ‘He should be over there in the kitchen cooking the supper. He always does at this hour.'

Helen Frances watched, impatiently at first, as he limped over to the kitchen and looked inside, but she showed alarm at the grim set of his face when he returned. He crossed the courtyard to the room that led off perpendicularly from the main hall and peered through the darkened windows. ‘Fan Yimei's not here either,' he said. ‘Come, you'd better wait in my sitting room while I search the rest of the house.' She took his arm and they climbed the three steps to the main hall, which had been divided into Henry's sitting room and bedroom. He held open the door for her. ‘At least they've turned on the lamps,' he said, and noticed that she was standing stock still in the doorway, staring at something inside. Her body was quivering, and her wide-eyed expression registered severe shock. At the same moment he heard a familiar voice: cold, reedy, sardonic. ‘I think that you had better come in too, Ma Na Si. Quietly, behind the fox woman.' Over Helen Frances's shoulder he could see into the room. Major Lin—it was clearly Major Lin, although he was dressed in rags—was reclining in his armchair. He was relaxed, as he could afford to be, because in his hands was a Luger, the barrel of which was pointing at their heads.

‘Please, Ma Na Si, come inside and sit on the sofa with your hands where I can see them. And you too,' he added, turning the gun on Helen Frances.

‘It's all right. I won't let him hurt you,' whispered Henry, brushing the back of Helen Frances's hair with his lips. She nodded, moved jerkily into the room; he followed her, steadying her arm. Keeping their eyes on Lin, they went to the sofa to which he was gesturing, and sat down. Opposite them, on the other sofa, he saw Lao Zhao and Fan Yimei, on whom Lin had been training his gun earlier. Lao Zhao was looking angry and truculent. He pointed his finger at Lin's revolver and shrugged as if trying silently to say to Henry, ‘What could I do?' Henry was gazing intently, however, at Fan Yimei, whose face was bruised and bleeding, and she was clutching one shoulder, which seemed to be giving her pain. Lin observed him carefully, an amused smile on his lips.

Fan Yimei noticed the anger that had burned in Henry's eyes. ‘No, Ma Na Si,' she said urgently. ‘Please don't do anything. I'm not hurt. Please be calm, Ma Na Si. Remember the wisdom of the night.'

‘The wisdom of the night?' said Lin, raising his eyebrows superciliously. ‘This whore of mine has a great gift for poetry, does she not? Is that why you stole her from me, Ma Na Si? Or do you consider her a fair exchange for that whore of yours I enjoyed? I see that the fox woman still remembers me. She can't keep her eyes off me.'

Henry squeezed Helen Frances's hand. ‘Ignore him,' he whispered. ‘He's only trying to scare you, but he can't hurt you. That's what you told me. He can't hurt you. He doesn't exist.'

‘What are you saying to her, Ma Na Si? Are you asking her which one of us she enjoyed more between her thin thighs? Oh, she wriggled nicely under me. But you were there. You saw. Would you like to see me give it to her again?'

‘I was under the impression that you were the type who preferred taking it to giving it, Major,' said Henry softly. ‘Or, at least, that's what Colonel Taro told me.'

Lin's smile disappeared. For a moment his eyes spat venom, but when he spoke again, his features had resumed their cold sneer.

‘You're very bold, Ma Na Si. That is one thing I admire about you. You and I, we share some things in common—besides our women. Let us talk no more about whores. I have done with them. They are not important. I give them to you. Both of them. This is not a time for petty matters of revenge.'

‘I assumed it was revenge that brought you here, Major.'

‘You are wrong, then. I have come because you still possess something that belongs to me.'

‘Fan Yimei doesn't belong to either of us, Major,' said Henry.

‘I told you, I am no longer interested in whores. Even that one. Although I did take the opportunity to punish her for her ingratitude earlier while I was waiting for you. She, too, will remember me.'

‘You know, I've noticed something about you, Major. You can be rather pompous,' said Henry. ‘Like your old master, the Mandarin, who you murdered.'

‘Do you think that by provoking me you will make me drop my guard? I will not react to such simplicity, Ma Na Si. I will use this gun if you force me to, but I will shoot one of the others, not you. I would rather that you and I got on with our business without these delays.'

‘There's only one sort of business I have with you, and I'd rather do that man to man outside.'

‘Please, Ma Na Si, you tire me. I have come for the guns. You will tell me where they are and then I will go. You made an agreement. You took the payment. It is now for you to deliver to me the secret of where the guns are hidden. If I am satisfied I will leave. You see, I am not even asking you to return the Mandarin's gold, which you stole without honouring your side of the bargain.'

‘Any bargain I made was with the Mandarin.'

‘You are wrong. You made a bargain with China. The guns belong to China. Now the Mandarin is gone I will act for him, as he himself acted for China.'

‘You
are
pompous. You haven't noticed, perhaps, that China has recently been soundly defeated?'

‘The Court and the forces of superstition have been defeated. These guns will be used to build a new China, after all your foreign armies have departed. A better China.'

Henry was about to retort sarcastically. He saw Fan Yimei's soft eyes pleading with him. He looked at Helen Frances who was sitting rigidly beside him, her mouth half open, staring at Major Lin, like a rabbit hypnotised by a snake.

‘You say you'll go if I honour my side of the bargain?'

‘If you satisfy me with the truth, as a gentleman to a gentleman.' Lin's cold eyes were almost expressionless.

‘And if you should find out that I've deceived you?'

‘Then I will be disappointed to have found out that you are not a gentleman, Ma Na Si, and I will return for my revenge—on you, but first on your whores. You will not be able to protect yourselves against me, however hard you try.'

‘All right,' said Henry. ‘I agree.'

‘Is this another trick?'

‘No, I will give you the map on which the arms cache is clearly marked. It's in that desk behind you. In a locked drawer at the back. The key's in there. Why don't you get up and take it?'

Lin smiled.

‘Because when my back is turned you will attempt something foolish. No, you get the map.' He turned the gun to point directly at Helen Frances. ‘If I suspect any trickery, I will shoot your whore between the eyes.'

Keeping the gun pointed at Helen Frances, he sprang to his feet with surprising agility, moving backwards slowly until he was standing at a point where he could observe both the desk and the hostages in the room. ‘Now,' he said to Henry, ‘you may get the map, if it really is there.'

Henry squeezed Helen Frances's hand one last time. ‘It'll be all right,' he said. ‘Just stay very calm. He can't hurt you.' She nodded. ‘There's my girl,' he said. He reached for his walking stick and pulled himself to his feet. Slowly he limped to the desk and opened its lid. He pulled open a drawer on the left and retrieved a small key, leaving the drawer open. Leaning forward, he inserted the key into a lock on the right, and turned it twice. He pulled open the drawer. It was a long one, which reached right to the back of the desk. He inserted his arm and appeared to grope for something. Slowly he pulled out a canvas package, tied with string. As Lin watched suspiciously, he untied it, then unfolded the canvas. It was, indeed, a map. He spread it out on the front of the desk. ‘Come and see,' he said. ‘X marks the spot.'

Lin hesitated. ‘Do you want me to bring it to you?' asked Henry. ‘It'll be easier for me to show you if you come here.'

‘No tricks,' warned Lin, edging towards him. The Luger was still aimed at Helen Frances.

‘Here, where my finger is,' said Henry. ‘You see where the railway branches to Mukden. A little to the left. You see the contour lines that mark the hills. There's a small gully here where there is a cave…'

As Henry spoke, Lin bent his head down to see. As he did so, Henry reached into the drawer he had first opened and snatched out his service revolver. In the same flashing movement, he pressed the muzzle against Lin's head, cocking the revolver as he did so. Lin froze, but his own gun was still pointing unerringly at Helen Frances. For a long moment nobody moved. Then Lin's twisted mouth curved into a smile.