Brother Fish (107 page)

‘He handed me a slip of paper and I glanced at it to see it was his address, though written in Russian it was indecipherable to most Chinese. “You can come at any time, Nicole,” he said quietly. “My wife's name is Elizaveta.” Then he added, using her Russian familiar, “Leza will welcome you if I'm not there.” I realised to my consternation that while I'd known him and thought of him as a friend ever since I'd arrived in Shanghai, I had never visited his apartment.

‘Once I'd thought it over, I wasn't too concerned about Sir Victor's second chef spilling the beans to Big Boss Yu. He was too low a personage to be granted an interview, and could easily enough be discredited. Moreover, he was in police custody and would probably be locked up for a week, or if they took the threat of the
doh
seriously it could be for a couple of months. When he sobered up he'd realise that saying anything about the behaviour of the great English taipan was unthinkable if he ever wished to work for a European household in Shanghai, or even in a restaurant other than a lesser Chinese one. It was the thought of who else might have been in the foyer at the time that troubled me.

‘On the way home Ah Chow was unusually quiet – normally he was a bit of a chatterbox. I was rather grateful for this and thought he must have sensed my mood, but when he dropped me off he looked deeply concerned and farewelled me in a very formal manner. Bowing deeply, he wished me a hundred years of good joss and many male children.

‘“Whatever is the matter with you, Ah Chow?” I asked, but he simply bowed again and I could see he was close to tears. “What is it, Ah Chow? Have I offended you?” I cried, moving towards the car. But before I reached it he'd driven away. To my surprise Ah May was not at the door to welcome me home, although when I turned the knob it was unlocked. I thought that perhaps she had needed some ingredient for her cooking and had slipped out for a moment, though it was not like her to leave the door unlocked. As I stepped into the darkened house I was grabbed from both sides, and before I could scream a hand closed over my mouth while my arm was twisted behind my back.'

‘Jesus!' Jimmy gasped. As for me, I was too stunned to utter a word.

‘There were two of them, and they forced me into my bedroom and threw me onto the bed. I struggled wildly, but I was helpless against them. They gagged me using a silk stocking and then tied my hands and legs to the bedposts, again using silk stockings, so that I lay spread-eagled. They then proceeded to cut the clothes from my body, warning me to keep still or I would be hurt by the sharp blade. I lay naked on the bed, weeping and close to hysteria, waiting for them to rape me. To my astonishment they bowed formally as they might to a superior, and left the bedroom. Shortly afterwards I heard the front door close.

‘I struggled to get loose but soon knew it was pointless – I was helpless against my bonds, which cut deeper the more I strained. After a while I began to gather my wits. What became clear was that I was being sent a message. It could only be from Big Boss Yu. But what was he trying to tell me? That I was worthless and could be given to any man he wished? That I didn't own my own body and I was his personal property? That if I continued to be Sir Victor's whore he would destroy me? That this was simply the ultimate humiliation, a severe warning that I was not free to do as I wished and that he was punishing me? This last notion seemed to fit best, because it illustrated his Chinese way of thinking. The attack on me was punishment and humiliation that perfectly befitted a warning. I was expected to resume my duties and carry on but relinquish my affair with Sir Victor. Technically and physically I had not been sexually violated. This would be important. Physical harm would have indicated malice when he intended only to warn me, scare me off. It was the mental violation that counted – the demonstration of his power and will over me. I soon convinced myself that this was the case and so I waited for Ah May to return to cut me loose, attend to my wrists and ankles and to bathe and comfort me.

‘I was suddenly overcome by a great weariness. I can only describe it as years of weariness – endless, grinding despair. The flight from Russia in the old dumb man's ox wagon, my life in Ah Lai's village, the dreadful months with my mentally disturbed father, the nightclub in Harbin, Mrs Worthington, going directly home after the performance every night, the cutting and burning of my hair, the years working for Big Boss Yu's good joss, building his raisin empire, losing my crockery factory to the three gangsters . . . and the small satisfaction I'd enjoyed with the connection I'd established with my family's ancient glory as purveyors of the world's best caviar until it had been dashed by the collapse of the New York Stock Exchange. I had never had a moment when I belonged to myself, when I wasn't ordered or owned but free to go my own way. I hadn't even visited Georgii Pavlovich Petrov's apartment or met his wife, Elizaveta! I couldn't remember having any real fun from the moment my mother died until I lay in Victor Sassoon's arms for the first time and he had taken my virginity, a gift that was my very own to give. As I lay gagged and tied and naked, an entire lifetime of weariness seemed to weigh heavily upon me. I started to weep for my life, the sad and senseless passing of my young and innocent years, until eventually I must have cried myself to sleep.'

‘Dat a real sad story to bear, Countess,' Jimmy said, shaking his head in sympathy.

‘I woke up with a start to see Smallpox “Million Dollar” Yang standing naked beside the bed, his small penis erect at the level of my head. In his hand he held a wineglass filled with lemonade, or perhaps it was soda water. I could see the tiny bubbles rising to the surface. He grinned, then dipped his forefinger into the glass and brought it to his mouth and sucked it. “No gin,” he said, then he splashed the contents over my face and slapped me hard across the side of my head before repeatedly raping me. “My seed will smoulder within you and destroy the foreign devil's,” he spat, then, reaching for the glass, he tapped its rim on the edge of the bed, breaking it, and stabbed the broken wineglass between my legs.'

‘Oh, Jesus, no!' I cried, leaning forward with my hands covering my face.

Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan started to weep, softly at first before increasing to a wail like a small child. Jimmy leapt to his feet and, lifting her into his huge arms, began to rock her as one might a distressed child. She clung to him, her arms about his neck and her head against his chest. ‘Yoh gonna be okay! Yoh gonna be okay, Countess. Yoh gotta let it come out, baby. All da hurt, it gotta come out. It poison, yoh hear! Yoh cry now, yoh cry real good – der a lot o' sadness an' it gotta go away. It gotta wash out, it gotta be ex-punged. We loves you, baby. Brother Fish and me, we loves you dearly,' he said, his words gaining momentum while the tears rolled down his cheeks.

After a while she calmed down, and Jimmy sat her back in the wicker chair. ‘I think we should call it a day, Countess. You're whacked, and need to rest.' It was all I could think to say. Jimmy had said the words I'd like to have said, but that was never going to happen with a McKenzie. Gloria would often say, ‘The men on both sides of this family have got emotional indigestion.' I realised how very much I had come to love Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan, how she had become such an important part of my life that I could hardly imagine it without her. But, of course, I'd had to rely on Jimmy to say the right words and to include me with them.

Fortunately Sue had given me a clean handkerchief, which at least I could offer to her, her own having turned into a wet ball she held clutched in her right hand. ‘Thank you, Jack,' she said softly, wiping her eyes. Then she looked in turn at both of us, her blue eyes swollen from crying. ‘Please, I crave your indulgence. I have never spoken of this to anyone, and if I don't get it all out now I don't believe I shall ever again have the courage.'

Jimmy nodded. ‘Dat good. Yoh talk. Yoh do dat, Countess,' he encouraged softly, his voice as comforting as the notes coming from a cello.

I could see she was about to cry again, but then somehow managed to control her tears. ‘Smallpox “Million Dollar” Yang stood over me. “If you mention my name to the police, you will not die,” he said smiling, as if to reassure me, “but we will chop off your hands.” He held up both his hands with the palms turned inwards and with his fingers stretched, then suddenly snapped his hands into fists and pulled them inwards so they appeared to be stumps on the end of his arms. “No Gin, no hands!” he cried and, bending almost double, his hands resting on his knees, he giggled in a high-pitched, almost hysterical feminine voice. Then with a sudden jerk he straightened up and, fierce-faced, pointed to the blood running down my legs. “This is the mark of the white paper fan, so that you will remember to obey your dragonhead.” Then he dressed slowly, stretching up each sock and attaching a suspender, then pulling over them light-brown pointed alligator boots, smaller but similar to the ones Big Ears Du had worn that fateful night in Big Boss Yu's office. He placed one boot on the bed beside me and, using a piece of my ruined dress, bent over me and polished it conscientiously, repeating the process with the other boot.

‘He was an utterly repulsive-looking man, with his face, neck and shoulders deeply pockmarked so that he appeared to be wearing a hideous tight-fitting hood that covered his face and dropped to his shoulders. No trace of smooth skin showed between the ugly craters that seemed to stretch his face to even wider proportions, giving him the appearance of having a head too large for his narrow frame. His incisors were gold, and when he smiled his eyes returned to deep slits as if they had been ripped into his face. His appendage had sunk like a shrivelled worm under his potbelly and he was almost completely bow-legged, his body bearing all the signs of a childhood spent in abject poverty. He slipped a long black Chinese silk gown over his head and, like his dragonhead master, Big Ears Du, placed a black-silk top hat on his head. Then he turned to look directly at me and, bending, brought his forefinger down to touch the inside of my leg. When he brought it up again I saw a tiny drop of blood on the tip. He touched the tip of his forefinger to his tongue. “No gin,” he said, giggling, then turning on his heel he walked from the room.

‘I lay on the bed weeping, the silk-stocking gag cutting deeply into the sides of my mouth as my head jerked convulsively. At one stage I thought I heard the front door opening but I wasn't sure. Then a short while later Ah May appeared. She had been crying and was obviously distressed. She looked at me and brought her hands to her face. “Aieeyaaa!” she wailed, repeating the sound several times as she began to cry. “What shall we do,
seal jeh
?” she said, using the Chinese words for a superior who is unmarried. “What shall we do?”

‘Her own distress seemed to calm me somewhat. “Help!” I mumbled. ‘With tears streaming down her face she attempted to untie the by now very tightly knotted silk stocking that bound and gagged me, her fingers pulling frantically but making no impression on the knots as she panicked and moved from one to the other. “Aieeyaaa!” she wailed again. She hurried out of the room, her small hands fluttering in panic, and returned with a pair of dressmaker's scissors. With dangerously trembling hands, weeping and crying out, she finally managed to cut my gag and bonds.

‘She bathed me, rubbed salve into my wrists and ankles and attended to the cuts made by the wineglass. Fortuitously, the jagged glass had cut into the inside of my left leg and not the part it had been intended for. Later Ah May fetched a Chinese doctor who asked no questions but stitched the two larger cuts, bandaged my leg, took his fee and departed almost wordlessly. Ah May told me how she had been gagged and bound in a foetal position so she couldn't move by the two men who had attacked me, and then locked in a large cupboard in the cooking area. One of the men had returned, which must have been when I heard the front door open, cut her bonds and departed so that she could come to my aid.

‘I was finally too exhausted to weep and fell into a troubled sleep. I woke early feeling bruised and sore, but mostly dirty. To be violated is never to feel completely clean again and I bathed myself once more, then dressed, and was making green tea when Ah May finally stirred from her narrow bed where she slept in a pantry-like annexe to the kitchen.

‘“What shall we do?” I asked her, not expecting an answer. She was
gung yun
, a working person with no rights.

‘“It was the tongs,” she said in a frightened voice. “There is nothing . . . ” She did not complete the sentence.

‘My heart filled with terror. What if Ah Chow arrived, as he always did, to take me to my office? How must I act? Would Big Boss Yu call me to the Ticking Clock House? But the big black Buick did not arrive at the appointed hour. Then half an hour later there was a knock on the door. I knew it couldn't be Ah Chow – he would simply have waited in the car until I emerged. Instead of letting Ah May go to the door I did so myself, limping slightly as the wound to the inside of my leg had caused it to stiffen. I opened the door to be confronted by two Sikh policemen and a European police officer. He handed me a warrant. “What is this?” I asked, taking it.

‘“Lily No Gin,” he announced, then quickly consulted a slip of paper, “also known as Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan, I am placing you under arrest. You are implicated in the export of opium to the United States of America.” I was too stunned to answer him. “Come along,” he said, without raising his voice. “If you cooperate, we won't need to handcuff you.”'