Tempted Tigress (35 page)

"What was your nightmare, Zhi-Gang?"

He sighed. She could almost hear the thoughts inside his head: keep quiet, pretend to sleep, and eventually the question will go away. But he surprised her. He spoke in a gravelly whisper that shivered into her skin.

"I dreamed I left China. I thought I left it all behind to start new somewhere else."

She bit her lip, barely daring to probe further. But she couldn't stop herself. "That was a nightmare?"

He nodded against her back. "The worst kind."

"I don't understand."

He took a deep breath and then exhaled in a sigh. She felt his heat brush down her spine. "Would you give it all up?" he asked. "Would you stop everything you are, throw away everything you've been just to start over?" She nodded. "In a heartbeat."

He pressed his lips into the space between shoulder and neck. "That is why you are leaving China. And why I cannot leave with you."

"You won't change your mind? Even to visit England with me? Just for—"

"I cannot." His voice was heavy with regret. "Anna. This is my home, my country. I need to stay and fight for it."

She didn't respond. Instead, she closed her eyes and visualized her love and her hopes. She poured all her emotions, all her strength into that image—a shining light that she cradled in her two hands. She held it gently, feeling its warmth even as she added her need to confess all to him. Indeed, she even added his image into her imagination. He stood before her, watching what she held, standing tall and proud as the emotionless Enforcer.

Then, with a sudden and abrupt resolve, she smashed her hands together. She crushed it all flat. She felt it shatter in her hands, disintegrating into a thousand tiny shards. Then she threw it away.

From Anna Marie Thompson's journal

June 8, 1886

I have my gold. It is a necklace of little links that Samuel gave me as pay. It is beautiful and I am wearing it right now. I have never had anything so wonderful, and yet I want to throw it into the Shanghai mud. But that would be stupid. I chose this life. I don't want to be a nun. I don't want to.

I didn't want to do what I did, either.

Samuel told me that the mandarin might want to celebrate. He said that after we got the money—if the mandarin wanted to share—that we could share. And that's what happened.

The mandarin wanted to celebrate. He boiled the opium and gave me a taste. It was like always. It was wonderful. And the world was beautiful, and Halfy was shy, just like before. Except, Halfy wasn't shy. He was very strong. And the mandarin celebrated in his own way inside me while Halfy held me down. And I cried because it hurt. It hurt so bad, but Halfy was nice and gave me more opium because it hurt.

Then it was Halfy's turn. And the money man's. Maybe more, I don't know. I couldn't fight so I took the pipe instead and let them do as they would.

I don't want to be a nun, so I'm selling the necklace and keeping the money in a bank. And I'll never, ever do a run with Halfy again.

No drug, not even alcohol, causes the fundamental ills of society. If we're looking for the sources of our troubles, we shouldn't test people for drugs, we should test them for stupidity, ignorance, greed and love of power.

—P. J. O'Rourke

Chapter 15

Shanghai had its own peculiar shape and scent, and though Zhi-Gang curled his lip at the smell, it wasn't the yellow mud that turned his stomach; it was Madame Ting's Garden of Perfumed Flowers. That and the way Halfy fondled every girl in the place.

Apparently, Halfy now ran the whorehouse, after the mysterious disappearance of Madame Ting. He was therefore the best source of information on the girls who might or might not have been brought here ten years ago. Unfortunately, Zhi-Gang didn't think he could talk with the man much longer without killing him. Yet he couldn't very well pass the task on to Anna, and Jing-Li was back in Jiangsu.

Which meant he had to sit in a tiny back room with this bastard he'd almost killed, smelling the man's sour sweat as it mixed with the nauseating scents of old tobacco, opium, and sex. Anna was with a few of the "flowers," to clean up and get a fresh set of clothes. He worried that she wouldn't be safe, that she would run, that if he left her alone for five minutes, he would never see her again.

But the fear was illogical. Over the last few days, her desire for revenge against her adopted father had taken on a life of its own. It was all she talked about now, in whispers in their bed, in veiled comments about a horse named Betrayer, even in idle doodles she made with a stick in the dirt. She seemed to believe that once Samuel was dead, her life would suddenly return to a sweet perfection where all was rainbows and flowers.

But that wouldn't happen. She must know. Even if she really were that naive, he had pointed out the truth often enough. No death—even a righteous one—could restore innocence. But the moment he tried to suggest such a thing, she began spinning a tale of what would happen when she arrived in England. Of the parties her family would throw on her behalf, the gifts she would receive, even the suitors that would vie for her hand.

The stories always set his teeth on edge, but he had allowed her to pretend. Better she let her mind remain in a fictional life in England than the ugly reality of what they planned for her adopted father. And so they had continued into Shanghai, and now here they were at Halfy's brothel. Zhi-Gang sat in the tiny back office listening to the half-white bastard brag about his privileges with the girls while chewing greasy dumplings with an open mouth.

"Did you run this place ten years ago?" Zhi-Gang asked, trying to bring Halfy back to the discussion at hand.

"I been here since I was born," he said as the door opened and a young girl of about sixteen years brought in a tea tray filled with teacups and a bottle of American whiskey. "Samuel thought I had potential and trained me. Now I'm what he calls his right-hand man."

A lie if there ever was one, but Zhi-Gang liked it when idiots bragged. They always let something key slip. "What about the new girls? Do they come directly to you?"

"Yeah." The man grinned. He watched as the girl set out the cups and poured the whiskey. Her hands were steady, her expression blank. For a moment, Zhi-Gang wondered if there were a real person inside or not, then Halfy abruptly demonstrated there was: Just as she turned to leave, he snatched her around the waist and pulled her back, hauling her onto his lap. She squeaked in alarm and tried to struggle, but he cuffed her on the head and she abruptly quieted. He hadn't even hit her hard, but she settled immediately, her eyes going eerily blank. Even her half-shed, shimmering tears seemed to dry up.

"What are you doing?" Zhi-Gang growled. "I can't drink with a woman sitting there."

"Aw, she won't say nothing. See, that's what I been telling you. I help in training all the girls. Have since I started outweighing them."

Zhi-Gang winced. "I'm interested in learning about a particular girl," he began, but Halfy wasn't paying attention.

"They're all the same. Just cunts needing to be opened up." So saying, he hauled the girl's legs apart.

"You'll rip the dress," she murmured—a small protest from a beaten woman.

"We got lots of dresses," Halfy returned, but he jostled her enough to tug her skirt up all the way, exposing a shaved and rouged bottom.

"I don't need to see—"

"They do whatever I say after they're trained. And if they don't, we got beds with chains. Opium to make 'em agreeable, and lots of customers who want to help with the initiation." Then he visibly preened. "But I get to use 'em early. It's part of the training. Gotta get used to a white man's cock. They're bigger, you know." He grinned and shoved a thick finger inside the girl. "They usually scream with me."

Zhi-Gang showed more reaction than the girl. She simply stared at the far wall, her body completely still as Halfy spread her legs even wider. Acid churned in Zhi-Gang's gut. Even knowing that Halfy was too young to have initiated his sister, he couldn't stop imagining it. In his mind's eye, Halfy became the bastard who had touched his sister, who had raped dozens of young and very frightened girls, who continued to abuse them every chance he got. The need to end the persecution burned through his body making his hands clench.

"Stop it," Zhi-Gang growled. "I don't enjoy watching." And when Halfy ignored him, he abruptly leaned forward and hauled on the man's arm. "You are disgusting," he spat.

"You'd rather enjoy her yourself? She's available. I'll even discount her for you."

Zhi-Gang didn't bother commenting. He hauled the girl to her feet and tugged down her skirt. The girl's eyes fastened on him. Her expression was still blank, but there was an edge of surprise in her eyes.

"Go find Anna," he snapped. "The white woman I came here with. Tell her where you were born."

The girl just stared at him, uncomprehending. Zhi-Gang had to physically turn her around and shove her out. Then, slamming the flimsy wood door, he spun back to Halfy. "How will you contact this Samuel?" he demanded. "When can I meet him?"

Halfy shrugged. "He's a regular here. He'll hear that I'm back and come to see me. Probably tomorrow night."