Band of Gold (25 page)

Israel shook his head hard enough to make the straggly ends of his hair fly about. ‘He just said this Chinkee cove wanted to see her.’

‘And he was Chinese himself?’

‘Yeah, he had this long pigtail down to here, and one of them little caps on and them baggy suits they wear.’

‘What was his name?’

‘Which one?’

Daniel suppressed a sigh of exasperation. ‘The man Kitty was going to see.’

Israel made a face as he concentrated on remembering. ‘Wonky? One key?’

‘Wong Kai?’

‘That were it!’

Daniel was silent for a moment, drained the glass of ale he’d been nursing half the afternoon, then said almost to himself, ‘Then I presume they’d be heading for Little Bourke Street.’

‘Well, they don’t live nowhere else round here, those Chinkees,’
Israel remarked, and stole the pickle Daniel had left on his plate. ‘Good job, too. Don’t want ’em stinkin’ up the whole town.’

Daniel clipped him sharply across the side of his head. ‘They’re called Chinese, boy. I paid you a pound to be my eyes and ears, not an ignorant little shit, so keep your prejudices to yourself.’

Rubbing his stinging ear, Israel mumbled, ‘Sorry, Mister Royce. Do ya know the way to the
Chinese
quarter? I can show ya.’

‘Not necessary.’

‘Can I come with ya, then?’

Daniel looked at Israel’s dirty, eager little face.

‘Why?’

‘’Cause she’s nice, that Mrs Farrell. I like her.’

Oh God, so do I, Daniel thought desperately, his stomach performing a lazy roll at the thought of her. ‘I’m not paying you any more money.’

‘Don’t care. I’ll do it for nothing,’ Israel declared and darted out of the pub.

Daniel followed, wondering how much longer he could keep tailing Kitty without her seeing him. He spared a guilty thought for Tahi: he’d browbeaten the lad until he’d finally confessed to what Kitty had wanted from him that afternoon out on the Malakoff Lead. All Daniel had had to do was follow her to Melbourne and make sure he kept out of sight. Then she’d taken a shine to the young stable boy, and his job had become a little easier. But now it seemed the boy was falling under her spell as well.

The same sickly-sweet smell hung in the air as Kitty sat in Wong Kai’s office, fanning her face with the painted silk fan So-Yee had given her. He’d also left her a jug of water, and a facecloth wrapped around an ice cube to hold against her forehead. Very thoughtful, Kitty reflected. If only So-Yee had managed a smile, Wong Kai’s
hospitality could even be considered gracious.

The door from the opium room opened and Wong Kai himself entered. He sat down in his velvet-upholstered chair, made a steeple out of his fingers, looked over them at Kitty, and said, ‘So, your husband has disappeared.’ A statement, not a question.

‘Yes.’

‘My men saw your…’ his hand fluttered as he searched for the correct English word ‘…advertisements? Would you care to tell me how this came about?’

Kitty complied, grateful that Wong Kai didn’t even blink when she came to the parts about Pierre’s snake, Tahi’s vision and Warrun’s tracking skills. Evidently, the Chinese were comfortable with matters concerning mysticism.

‘And you suspect that this Sergeant Coombes is working with the woman Lily Pearce?’

‘I don’t know.’ Kitty folded the fan and laid it on the low table at her elbow. ‘Rian did say once he thought there might be some sort of arrangement between them, but whether it was just business or something more intimate he couldn’t say. Or didn’t say. I don’t think he cared to speculate.’

‘But why would they kidnap your husband?’ Wong Kai asked.

‘I don’t know! All I know is that I saw that
woman
wearing the sapphire from Rian’s ring around her scraggy neck, a ring that
I
had made for him and would know
anywhere!
’

Wong Kai waited for Kitty to calm herself. ‘So,’ he said when she had, ‘Rian was arrested twice by Sergeant Coombes, and both times made a fool of the man, and was also involved in the Eureka uprising but was never arrested for it, is that correct?’ Kitty nodded. ‘Also, he was approached several times by Lily Pearce and spurned her, once publicly. Is that also correct?’ Kitty again concurred. ‘Finally, you and Lily Pearce were involved in a catfight in the street, resulting in her public humiliation. Again, am I correct?’

‘Well, her wig came off,’ Kitty admitted.

Wong Kai stared at her with a faintly disbelieving air. ‘And you do not know why the pair of them would wish to cause you harm?’

Kitty sat stunned. The relief at having so recently discovered that Rian probably wasn’t dead was now replaced by the dismaying knowledge that, in all likelihood, their own actions had caused the awful predicament in which they now found themselves. ‘But surely retribution on this scale is completely out of proportion?’

‘Would that not depend, Mrs Farrell, on the extent of their humiliation? Also, if your husband is not dead, you must ask why not. Kidnap is usually accompanied by a demand for ransom.’ Wong Kai was silent for several beats. ‘And, of course, there is the possibility that they may not be working alone.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Nothing in particular. I am simply considering all possibilities.’ He picked a thread off the sleeve of his robe and let it fall to the floor. ‘Now, I assume you do want my assistance in this matter? I am indebted to you regarding the matter of Bao, and I am happy to discharge that debt by helping you to locate your husband.’

Kitty said that this sounded extremely fair.

‘Good. Now,’ Wong Kai went on, ‘you will discover that all manner of fools and confidence men will approach you as a result of your advertisements.’ He shook his head regretfully. ‘You should not have bothered. You should have come to me first. Mr Chen will return with you to your hotel to discourage any such unwanted attention, since it is unlikely that you will learn anything useful through such channels.’

Kitty frowned. Wong Kai was always so sure of himself. ‘How do you know that?’

Wong Kai smirked, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. ‘Because already I have my people out and about, and any information you are likely to receive, even if it has not been fabricated, will probably be redundant by the time you receive it.’

Kitty shot forward in her seat, her heart hammering. ‘Why? What have you heard?’

‘Nothing concrete—a rumour here, a word there. But with a touch of persuasion, and the calling in of several debts owed to me—’

‘But you said “redundant”.
Was
he here, Mr Wong? Was he here and now he’s gone?’

Kai inclined his head in partial agreement. ‘Your young friend with the gift of second sight was correct. He was here, I can assure you of that, but I have not yet discovered where he is now.’

It was Kitty’s first real proof that Rian was still alive. Her heart soaring with relief and her throat aching against a torrent of tears that sprang from both gratitude and fury, she put her elbows on her knees and her hands over her face so Wong Kai couldn’t see her livid expression. Why, why, couldn’t you have told me that as soon as you walked in?

‘He may still be in Melbourne,’ Wong Kai continued, addressing the top of her head, ‘or he may have been taken somewhere else. I am awaiting further information.’

Kitty straightened, smoothed a crease in her skirt, and studied his face. He looked…amused almost, as though he knew she was angry with him and he found it entertaining. She composed herself to the best of her ability.

‘I am extremely grateful for your assistance, Mr Wong. I’m sure you know how disadvantaged I would be without it. When are you expecting to receive this further information?’

Kai shrugged, the stiff silk of his robe making a soft whispering sound against the back of his chair. ‘I am hoping sometime tonight, but who knows? When the quarry is information, the hunt cannot always be measured in time.’

Oh, what a lot of shite, Kitty thought. ‘Well, I would very much appreciate being told as soon as you hear anything. Any hour of the day or night.’

Wong Kai nodded beneficently. ‘Of course. It will be my pleasure.’

So-Yee escorted Kitty downstairs, where she was met by Mr Chen, and together they walked along Little Bourke Street, hailed a cab and headed back to the Criterion Hotel.

Concealed uncomfortably behind a stack of empty barrels in an alleyway, Daniel and Israel watched as the cab rattled off.

‘What do ya think he had to tell her?’ Israel wondered aloud.

Daniel had no idea, but she certainly looked brighter than she had for some weeks—and that could mean only one thing. He leant against the wall behind the barrels and closed his eyes, expecting to be overcome by a surge of jealous despair, or hopelessness, or even possessiveness now that he’d actually, after all these years of longing, made love to Kitty.

Then he gave a mental sigh of despondency, because it hadn’t been love, had it? Certainly not on her part. Kitty had been seeking comfort, at best. And he had been left profoundly regretting what he’d done—and when she was at such a low ebb. Her lips had silently formed Rian’s name at the peak of her passion, and he’d pressed his face into her throat so he wouldn’t have to see it, and so he could keep pretending it was him she was loving, and not her dead husband. And now that it seemed that Rian might be alive after all, Daniel felt…what? He rubbed his hands over his unshaven face and then nearly smiled, because the closest he could come to it was…joy.

‘Why don’t you go back to the hotel and ask her?’ he said to Israel. ‘Christ almighty, boy, it’s what I’m paying you for.’

The bespectacled Mr Chen, attired in his smart suit and a beautiful panama hat, had brought with him a
mah jong
set, and he and Kitty spent the remainder of the afternoon and the evening in the hotel lounge drinking tea and playing. The tiles were exquisitely crafted and decorated, and from time to time a small crowd gathered,
enjoying the novelty of watching such a skillful Chinese game. Initially, the Criterion’s proprietor inquired privately of Kitty whether she and Mr Chen intended to embark upon a marathon gambling session and, if so, could they please hie themselves elsewhere as the Criterion prided itself on its genteel and sober reputation, but a very tart reminder from Kitty that she was a paying guest, and entitled to use the facilities and receive visitors, soon shut him up.

Mr Chen perched on a sofa while Kitty sat opposite in an armchair, enjoying the opportunity to relax a little and use the skills she’d learnt occasionally playing
mah jong
with Wong Fu at Ballarat. Israel at first refused to sit next to Mr Chen, but after an hour he had drawn closer, attracted by the bright colours on the tiles and the distinctive sounds they made as they were moved about, until finally he was almost on the Chinese man’s knee.

Amused, Mr Chen began to explain to him how the game was played, and by the time Israel dashed outside to use the privy, he was moved to remark, ‘He is quite intelligent, is he not, for an uneducated, snot-nosed, white-skinned boy?’

Kitty laughed, but when Israel had not returned almost an hour later she began to wonder where he was. By the time he did come back, several men had called at the hotel, each asking to speak with Kitty. Mr Chen dealt with them on her behalf, saying little to her afterwards except that they did not have anything to offer except deliberate falsehoods manufactured to separate Kitty from her money, and tenuous sightings that would have proved erroneous had they been pursued.

At eight o’clock they ate supper, and Kitty noticed that Israel had again disappeared.

K
itty cautiously opened her door, peering out at Israel through the small gap. ‘Oh, it’s you. Where have you been?’

‘Out an’ about.’

He’d been sitting in yet another pub with Mr Royce, who’d turned out to be not such a bad-tempered bastard after all. In fact, he’d told Israel not to call him Mr Royce because, he reckoned, it made him feel like he was a hundred years old, and to call him Daniel instead. And he’d bought Israel two glasses of ale and a lovely steak-and-kidney pie, so Israel had sat there calling him Daniel and chatting away and having a high old time. Actually, Daniel had done most of the talking—and a fair bit of drinking. So Israel had gone back with him to his shit-hole of a boarding house and made sure he’d got to bed—well, on it, at least—then come back here.

When Kitty told him there had been no news, Israel heard the weariness and disappointment in her voice, and had no idea how to make her feel better.

‘Will you sleep out here again?’ Kitty asked.

Israel nodded.

‘Look, why don’t you come in and sleep on the chair inside. I don’t mind.’

Israel felt a very disconcerting stirring in his loins, and quickly shook his head. ‘Nah, I’ll be all good out here.’

‘I’m not entirely sure why you’re sleeping on my doorstep anyway, Israel,’ Kitty remarked.

‘Well, ’cause I’ve—’ Israel stopped himself just in time. He’d almost said because he’d been paid to, but that wasn’t actually it, not anymore. He was doing it because he wanted to. He wanted to know what was going to happen to Kitty Farrell, and he wanted to help her if he could. And, to tell the truth, he wanted to help Daniel Royce as well. The pound coins were neither here nor there now, although he certainly wasn’t giving either of them back.

At a quarter to four the next morning, someone stood on Israel’s arm. Jerked out of a moderate sleep, he yelped and rolled out of the way.

‘Boy, wake up!’ a voice ordered. Its owner gave him a light kick in the ribs.

Israel staggered to his feet, saw that his attacker was the Chinkee who had barred him from riding in the cab with Kitty, and struck out with a fist.

‘Stop that,’ So-Yee said, casually blocking the punch with the side of his hand. He rapped on the door. ‘I am here to see Mrs Farrell.’

Kitty answered in less than a minute, and Israel wondered whether she had even been asleep.

‘So-Yee! Is there news?’

‘Yes. May I enter?’

Kitty stepped back. ‘Of course.’ She let him in, not minding when Israel slipped in behind him.

So-Yee stood in the middle of the room. Kitty noted that he looked very grim, but then she had never seen him look anything else.

‘I have news,’ he began. ‘It is both good and bad.’

Kitty’s stomach began to churn.

So-Yee continued: ‘Your husband was indeed held captive in premises in Lonsdale Street, incapacitated from wounds. The day you yourself arrived in Melbourne, and for that reason, he was taken from there and transported to Geelong—’

‘Geelong!’ Kitty gasped.

‘Yes, where he is presently incarcerated in a building near the Corio Bay waterfront.’ He slid a hand into his tunic and passed Kitty a folded square of paper. ‘This is a drawing of the location of the building.’

Kitty opened the paper and studied it. ‘But I don’t understand, So-Yee. Who is holding him prisoner? And why?’

So-Yee looked even more grave, if that were possible. ‘Wong Kai has not been able to ascertain why, Mrs Farrell, but he has discovered who.’

And when So-Yee told her, Kitty felt fear settle on her like an icy, black cloak.

‘I’m slipping!’

Astounded that someone who had worked in a stable since they were nine had never ridden a horse, Kitty reached an arm behind her back, grabbed a handful of Israel’s shirt and yanked him upright again.

‘For God’s sake, will you hang on! We’re nearly there!’

His arms tightened around her waist and she felt him tuck his bare feet between her calves and the saddle flaps, holding on for all he was worth. She could see the docks not far away, and the long finger of Australia Wharf where the
Katipo
was berthed. A few
minutes more and they would be there.

It would take a day to travel to Geelong overland, but only four hours by sea, perhaps as little as three if the winds were good—
and
if the
Katipo
could be sailed at something close to her maximum speed.

Daniel sat on the edge of his cot, scratching viciously at a row of flea bites down his leg, and cursing a noisy bloody bird outside his window that was insisting on heralding the approaching dawn with unnecessary cheer.

He’d been awake since two o’clock and had finally decided he would talk to Kitty. He was tired of skulking around after her, and paying good money to a boy who smelt of horse shit to find out what was going on when he should be doing that himself. And if she refused to see him, then he would simply slip back into the shadows and wait.

He opened the lid of his watch—half past four. It was early, but now that he’d made up his mind, he realised he couldn’t wait. He splashed his face with cold water from the cracked ewer, cleaned his teeth with powder and spat it out the window at the irritating bird, pulled on his boots and walked the quarter-mile to where McCool was stabled. Even at this hour and with the sun not quite up, the streets of Melbourne were busy, fruiterers and fishmongers and butchers setting up stalls for the day’s markets, and carts and barrels and yapping dogs blocking alleyways and lanes.

Outside the Criterion Hotel he looped McCool’s reins over a rail and went inside. Here, too, the staff were already afoot.

‘Help you, sir?’ someone asked Daniel as he stood in the foyer.

‘No,’ he replied as he turned and walked up the stairs. He knew which room Kitty occupied because Israel had told him.

He located the room, although the boy wasn’t sleeping outside the
door as he’d been expecting, knocked gently and waited. He knocked again, loudly this time. Still nothing. He pushed the door and it swung open.

Kitty wasn’t there. Feeling faintly guilty, he went in and looked around. Some of her things were scattered about—the dress she had been wearing the last time he’d seen her, a chemise, a pair of button boots, some toilette articles. A nightdress was tossed across the unmade bed, and a few bits and pieces abandoned on the floor. Everything, in fact, suggested she had gone somewhere in a hurry.

He stared briefly at the tableau for a moment, then hurried out of the room, along the hall and down the stairs, almost knocking over a housegirl coming the other way carrying a teetering armful of sheets. The stables were behind the hotel, and he accosted the first person he saw, a fat-bellied man sitting on a barrel enjoying a pipe in the first rays of the morning sun.

He seemed to take an irritatingly long time to formulate his answer. ‘A good-looking woman with black hair, you say? On a chestnut mount? Aye, ’twas less than an hour ago. Wearing trews, she was. Quite a sight to behold, and not one ye see often, I have to say. Trews and a man’s jacket. Very nice fit, too, the trews. Took off on a man’s saddle, to boot—’

‘Where was she going, did she say?’ Daniel interjected.

The man appeared not to hear him. ‘Had my young stable boy with her, too. Or should I say, ex-stable boy. Had to inform him he no longer has a job here. Can’t be doing with unreliability, can I? Didn’t seem to give a bugger, I have to say.’

‘Yes, but where were they
going!
’ Daniel demanded, wanting to strangle the fat fool.

The man screwed up his face, thinking. ‘The wharves? Aye, that’s what she said. Rapido? Something like that. I weren’t really listening, ye see.’ He shook his head in wonderment. ‘Them trews!’

Katipo
. Daniel was already running back towards the street and
McCool. Why on earth was Kitty heading for the wharves? Where would she be going? And surely she couldn’t be intending to actually launch the
Katipo?

‘We can’t sail her by ourselves.’

Kitty said, ‘You’re not sailing her at all.’

They were standing on the wharf next to the
Katipo
, Kitty holding Finn’s reins and Israel’s face beginning to go a deep, obstinate red colour.

‘Ya said I could come with ya!’

‘I said you could come along to look after Finn after I’ve gone. That’s all.’

‘But I know where I can put him!’ He pointed vigorously. ‘Me mate works at them stables just down the way there, see? Ya can’t sail a whole ship all on your own!’

‘I won’t be on my own,’ Kitty replied calmly, even though her heart was racing and her stomach felt as though it contained two dozen sparrows all madly flapping their wings. She handed the reins to Israel and walked up the gangplank onto the
Katipo
, calling, ‘Charlie? Charlie Dunlop!’

There was a clatter and a curse, and Charlie’s grizzled head appeared at the top of the cabin steps.

‘Mrs Farrell? Aye, it is, too! Good day to you, Mrs Farrell!’ He clambered up on deck and hurried towards her, his remaining arm offered in greeting.

Kitty shook his hand. ‘Good morning to you, too, Charlie.’

Charlie glanced around. ‘The captain not with you? Still making millions out at Ballarat?’

‘No, he isn’t.’ And Kitty explained very briefly what had happened, and what she wanted to do.

Charlie stared at her, aghast. ‘And you want to sail her by your
self?’

‘Er, not exactly, Charlie. I want you to captain her; I’ll work the rigging.’

Charlie’s face went from white, to red, back to almost bloodless again, then erupted in an enormous, gap-toothed smile. ‘You want
me
to captain her! Old one-armed Charlie Dunlop? With just one rat in the ropes? Lord above! Be a bloody risky business,’ he added, although the prospect didn’t diminish his delight any. ‘Course I will.’ He couldn’t seem to stop grinning. ‘And thank you for askin’. I’m that honoured.’

And I’m that desperate, Kitty thought. But Charlie had a reputation as a sea dog—he would know what he was doing even if he could no longer physically manage everything.

‘What about me?’ Israel called plaintively from the wharf. He hooked Finn’s reins over a bollard and ran nimbly up the gangplank. ‘I can climb ropes and do all that. I can help.’

‘Who’s this?’ Charlie asked, regarding Israel down his nose.

‘Israel.’ Kitty took her purse from her pocket and withdrew a handful of coins and gave them to the boy. ‘Take Finn to your friend’s stable, then find the tugmaster and tell him to be here in thirty minutes. I don’t care if there are other ships ahead of us in the queue, pay him whatever it takes. Bribe him if you have to.’

Charlie’s eyes had almost popped out of his head. ‘You’re never givin’ that much money to the likes of
him?!’

‘I trust him,’ Kitty replied simply.

Charlie made a disbelieving face. ‘Anyway, tugmaster won’t take heed of a scrap of a boy in bare feet. I’d best have a word with him.’

He whipped some of the money out of Israel’s hand and marched off.

Thinking furiously, Kitty walked about, checking that the new ropes were neatly coiled and those sails she could examine from the deck correctly furled, feeling Israel’s eyes boring beseechingly into her. Turning on him so quickly he gave a little start, she said, ‘If I
let you come with us, will you promise to do exactly as you’re told?’

An enthusiastic nod.

‘And you will stay on the
Katipo
at all times, understand?’

More energetic nodding.

‘No running off?’

Vigorous head-shaking this time.

‘No deviating from the plan because you think you know better?’

Shaking of the head so rigorous that Israel’s eyes almost crossed.

‘Good. Now promise me.’

‘I promise,’ Israel said, and snapped off a smart salute.

Kitty contemplated his dirty, exuberant face, hoping she was doing the right thing. ‘Right, then, you can come. Off you go and sort out Finn.’

Israel trotted happily across the deck to the gangplank, then stopped so quickly he almost lost his footing: Daniel was on the wharf below, sitting on McCool, staring up at him.

Israel glanced over his shoulder at Kitty, who was shifting a coil of rope closer to starboard.

‘Um…’ he said.

She didn’t look up. ‘What is it?’

‘There’s someone here.’

She raised her head. ‘Who?’

Daniel had dismounted and was on the gangplank; she’d see him in a second. Israel stood aside.

Kitty straightened, a look of confusion on her face. She took a few hesitant steps forward. ‘Daniel? What are you doing here?’

He stepped onto the deck and clipped Israel across the ear.

‘Ow! What was that for?’ Israel wailed.

Unable to decide whether she was delighted to see Daniel, or angry at what he’d just done, she exclaimed, ‘Don’t hit my ship’s boy!’ then slapped Daniel’s face.

Daniel put his hand to his cheek and had the gall to look aggrieved.

‘What’s he ever done to you?’ Kitty demanded.

‘He neglected to tell me you were coming down here to the wharves. I had to find out from that fat fool at the hotel stables,’ Daniel added accusingly to Israel. To Kitty he said, ‘You’ve had news?’

‘Yes, Rian is being held prisoner at Geelong.’ She stopped, feeling quite a sense of mental dislocation, realising that Daniel didn’t know anything. ‘Daniel, he isn’t dead after all! He was kidnapped after the flood and he was here in Melbourne but—’

Daniel raised a hand to quiet her. ‘Kitty. Kitty, I know. I know Wong Kai has had his people out looking for information and I know nearly all of it except for the bit about Geelong, and I’ll sail with you if you’ll have me—and I’ll do anything I can to help get Rian back.’

‘But how do you know?’

Then she understood. Her head slowly swivelled and her gaze settled on Israel.

In very clipped tones, she said, ‘I’d like you to take the horses along to your friend’s stables, Israel. Now.’

Israel ran with a pair of reins in each hand, his arms outstretched so that the horses trotting behind him wouldn’t clip his heels, his rasping breath tasting like metal filings in his throat, and praying that it wasn’t his mate’s day off. It wasn’t and he managed to get a good deal, then raced back along the waterfront to Australia Wharf, terrified that Kitty would be so angry that she might have sailed away without him. But, to his immense relief, he arrived just in time to see the paddle-wheel tug preparing to tow the
Katipo
out of her berth and into the middle of the Yarra.