Heart of Iron (6 page)

Wong Jun and Chiang Tse expressed no outward enmity toward each other, but instead joined forces in explaining the Opium War to Olga; apparently, dislike of the British brought the Manchu and the Han together. We drank the tea that smelled faintly of flowers — a taste both familiar and strange, and watched the sky change color from almost white to blue to streaked with pink. Just as the sun was touching the roof of St. Isaac’s Cathedral, Anastasia squawked from her perch by the window. “You have to see this, Miss Alexandra,” she called. “That’s the man I told you about.”

Olga and I both bolted for the window, arriving just in time to see a stocky man cross the street toward the club. He was dressed in a non-descript blue coat and trousers splattered with mud at the hem. His top hat was pushed low over his brow obscuring his face, but Anastasia insisted he was the man she had seen at the shop.

Chiang Tse joined us at the window, and watched our discussion with a somewhat puzzled expression. I hurried to explain the rumors of the secret informers to him.

“We’re not doing anything untoward,” he said. “We have nothing to be afraid of.”

“Except the opium smokers in the parlor,” I said. “You might discourage their public consumption. It is not illegal, but… ”

Wong Jun left the dining room, and his whispered words spread a mild agitation among the students. Some hurried to the parlor to make sure that there were no non-presentable activities, and opened windows to chase away the sweet, lingering smell of the opium smoke.

Olga and I traded looks, unsure if we were in any danger. If we were to leave right away, would the Nikolashka outside start questioning us? I suddenly realized what my aunt had meant with her attack on Prince Nicholas. The idea of the Nikolashki was somewhat sinister; the appearance of one outside the Chinese club betrayed the prince’s proclivity for unsavory business.

“Do you think the Chinese are truly are spies?” Olga whispered into my ear.

I have to confess the question had not previously entered my mind, but I now weighed the possibility. “No,” I finally said. “They are just students, just as we are.”

“They could still be spies.”

I sighed and pulled Olga away from the window, and made her sit down by the table. “Listen. They are our friends. Shouldn’t we trust them?”

Olga’s eyes filled with doubt but she said nothing.

“Come on,” I said. “What did they ever do to you?”

Olga stood, and would not meet my gaze. “I better go.”

“You can’t go by yourself.” I turned to Anastasia. “Please take Miss Olga to the dormitories.”

Anastasia scowled. “And leave you here alone? No, miss, I cannot.”

“Consider it an order,” I said. “Please don’t argue, or I’ll send you back to Trubetskoye and you know what words my Aunt Eugenia would have for you.”

Anastasia paled, impressed by the thought of Countess Eugenia’s wrath to such an extent that even her freckles disappeared. “How will you get home, Miss Alexandra?” she dared to ask.

“I’ll walk,” I answered. “Don’t worry, I know the way, and I’ll be along as soon as we know what these men want.”

“You don’t have to stay,” Olga said, still not looking me in the face.

“I won’t be long,” I answered. “I just want to make sure that Mr. Chiang Tse and his friends are not harmed. I cannot do much other than offer my word as to their character, but my family might mean something to these people.”

I walked Anastasia and Olga to the door and promised to join them soon. When I returned to the dining room, the servers had cleared the table. The Chinese students had congregated in small groups, some speaking English, others conversing in what I assumed was Cantonese.

“What is going on?” I asked Chiang Tse, who was speaking to Lee Bo and Wong Jun.

All three turned toward me with tense smiles.

“We must thank you for warning us,” Lee Bo said. He was the most soft-spoken of the three, and I was surprised to hear him speak for the rest. “Several of our countrymen disappeared recently. Initially, we believed they were compelled to return home on urgent business. But my own brother, Lee Jin, disappeared yesterday. Suspecting foul play, we went to the authorities. But if what you say is true, I now worry we will find no assistance from government officials for my brother and our friends.”

I sought for words with which to reply, shocked by the realization of the severity of the situation. Its grievous nature was reinforced by the fear written so clearly on copper-dark faces surrounding me. “This makes no sense,” I said. “Surely, the emperor… ”

I could not finish the thought — of course the emperor would trust his brother over foreign students. As for the students’ war-torn native country, even if made aware of the harassment and abuse of its children abroad, little attention could be spared from more profound national problems. I remembered the group of menacing male students following me, and — once I recognized with crystal clarity how defenseless all of us were, how vulnerable — my head began to swim.

“I will go out, I will try to reason with the scoundrel,” I said.

“What will you say?” Lee Bo said.

“This is ridiculous,” Chiang Tse interrupted. “It is only one man in the street, and we have no reason to think he’s looking to arrest someone. We’ve allowed fear to overwhelm us.”

“It is understandable if you consider my brother’s disappearance,” Lee Bo interjected.

“At the very least, I can ask,” I said, and resolutely pulled my gloves on.

When I stepped outside, I realized Lee Bo’s fear was not exaggerated. The Nikolashka Anastasia claimed to have recognized stood under a small arch next to the club’s doorway. Moreover, there were another six men in street clothing milling about and trying to look inconspicuous. When they saw me, most of them turned away, as if looking at something fascinating down the street. The sun had almost set by then, and long shadows twisted around them, hiding their faces and pooling under their eyes.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” I said. “I could not help but notice you’ve been here for some time. Are you waiting for anyone in particular?”

Anastasia’s Nikolashka frowned in my general direction. “Pass along, miss. Official business.”

“Really?” I stepped closer, even though my heart was fluttering high in my throat. I was close enough to smell onions on his wheezing breath. “Is anyone in this club of interest to you then?”

He did not answer but turned away with a sigh and a show of irritation.

“My family,” I said with as much weight as I could muster, “is close to the emperor. I will gladly offer my word of the good character of those inside.”

Nikolashka jerked his shoulder. “Good for your family then, miss. Now, let me do my job, and I won’t spoil your friendship with the emperor, how’s that sound?”

I stepped back, unsure of what to do next.

“And you better not go back into that club,” he said. “You don’t want to be caught consorting with that element, believe you me. Just walk home and get yourself some sleep.” He never addressed my by name, but I got a distinct feeling he knew who I was.

For a moment, I was tempted to follow his advice. I think what stopped me was a slowly rising anger at being dismissed for not presenting a real threat; in any case, I headed back to the club’s entrance.

There were a few men leaving the club, none of whom I recognized. Still, I stood and waited for them to pass through the doors and by the arch. I hoped the Nikolashki would not dare anything while I watched. Perhaps my mere presence would be enough to avert a disaster.

The next to emerge were Wong Jun, Lee Bo, and Chiang Tse. I pressed my lips together and inclined my head in the direction of the arch. They seemed to understand, and hurried into the gathering darkness.

“Halt!” called the Nikolashka who smelled like onions. At his command, a few of his comrades stepped forth, surrounding the three men.

I am not exactly sure what was I hoping to accomplish, but I stepped between Chiang Tse and the Nikolashki. A part of me hoped that the latter would be dissuaded from their pursuits if there were a witness; it had never occurred to me that any real harm might befall me.

The one who smelled of onions moved to shove me aside, and his arm caught me across the chest, pushing me into the waiting arms of others, while three more stepped forth to apprehend the Chinese students. I struggled out of the men’s hands, appalled by the unclean touch of their corrupt fingers, all the while demanding that my friends be left alone.

The gas streetlamps were coming on, but the passersby were few, and clearly uninterested in getting involved. All four of us were held by the arms now; only I continued to struggle, still willfully oblivious to whose side the power was on.

I was lifted bodily off the ground, and used this opportunity to try and kick at my capturers, but they were apparently used to such attempts and the onion-breath avoided injury with surprising deftness. Before they could carry me off to the carriage now waiting at the corner, a part of the night sky suddenly grew darker — both starlight and lamplight disappeared, and before I had a chance to wonder at this phenomenon, the dark patch resolved itself into a wide cloak.

I could not see the face of the man who fell like a stone from the sky — a suicide, I thought at first, even though there were no tall buildings in our proximity. Our capturers saw him too; I felt the grip on my elbows relax, and used the opportunity to wrench free. I was not the only one: I saw Chiang Tse and Lee Bo wrestle out of constraining hands as well. Noting their hesitation, I screamed, “Run!”—furious that they might waste this opportunity with unneeded chivalry. They wisely obeyed.

The man who fell out of the sky backhanded one of the Nikolashki, and the rest of them stepped back, understandably stunned by his appearance as well as his rude behavior. I could not see the face half-hidden under his wide-brimmed hat — only a long, clean-shaven chin was visible.

He grabbed my elbow. “Come on,” he said, and pulled me along. I ran after him, into darker streets with only a scarce smattering of streetlamps. He ran quickly, changing directions as to confuse any pursuit, and I did my best to keep up. My skirts tried to twist around my legs, and my chest felt as if it would explode against the confines of my corset. “Wait,” I gasped.

The stranger paused and let me lean against an anonymous brick wall where I stood gulping air.

“Wong Jun,” I finally managed. “They still have one of my friends.”

The stranger gave a soft chuckle. “I am awfully sorry to hear that, miss,” he said in perfect English, “only I’m not going back. Look at the bright side though — two of them got free. Maybe for long enough to leave the city and avoid further trouble altogether.” He had an easy, pleasant manner of speech. By then I had decided he had not fallen out of the sky, but had a good enough heart to interfere with injustice when he stumbled upon it. It was his sudden appearance that had confused me.

“I appreciate your assistance, sir,” I said. “You came seemingly out of nowhere.”

“Just happened by.” A flash of teeth under the brim of the hat, and another soft laugh. “Name’s Jack Bartram. I do believe I’ve seen you in my philosophy class.”

I shook a proffered hand, very long, with square-tipped fingers. “If you say so.”

“Forgive my lack of manners, miss.” He took off his hat, and I saw an entirely unremarkable, pale visage — even if he was in my class, he had one of these faces that was easily forgettable. But he was quite tall and gangly under his cloak, and that made him memorable enough.

“I am Alexandra Trubetskaya,” I said. “It is a pleasure to meet you, and I thank you for a timely and dramatic rescue.”

He was laughing still. “I hope your friends will get a chance to say the same to you.”

I smiled then. “I hope so too.”

He put his hat back on, and stood a moment listening for the sounds of the pursuit. Satisfied that there was none, he offered me his arm. “It would be my pleasure to escort you back to your dormitory, Miss Trubetskaya,” he said.

I nodded and took his arm. “Thank you. Anastasia must be worried sick.”

I did not get a chance to tell Olga about my miraculous rescue and the terrible behavior of the Nikolashki — by the time Mr. Bartram and I arrived at the dormitories, all windows but mine were dark. I listened to Anastasia’s relieved exclamations and then went to bed, but not before peeking out of the window, and observing that, to my disappointment, my rescuer was gone.

I saw him on Monday in my philosophy class. It took place in the afternoon, when most of those present, full and contented after lunch, dozed to the monotone of Professor Zhmurkin, who informed us of the Prime Mover and other such fanciful notions. I, however, was alert, and looked past Olga and Dasha’s nodding heads (it was like watching a seesaw) to the back of the auditorium. When I looked behind me, my heart fluttered painfully in my chest. The colorful robes and long braids were gone now, replaced by a row of empty seats. There were three Chinese students left in attendance, and all of them had their hair cut in the current style and wore Western dress.

My sorrow was quickly replaced by blushing, fluttering joy as my eyes met the steely-gray gaze of the Englishman from last night, who smiled and nodded to me as if I were an old friend. I quickly turned away, and listened to the lecture, flustered by my embarrassing joy. I should not be feeling elated with Chiang Tse and Lee Bo missing and Wong Jun no doubt languishing in some prison. But what could I do help them?

As always, I imagined what Aunt Eugenia would say. Her stern voice crystallized in my mind with perfect clarity. “Foolish girl,” she would’ve said if she were here. “You have plenty of connections in this city — don’t tell me your poor mother and I wasted our time introducing you. If you want to find something out, nothing’s stopping you.”