The Eleventh Tiger (18 page)

Suddenly he heard keys jangle at the end of the corridor outside. He resisted the urge to look to see who it was and whether they were coming to his cell. The short soldier - the one who looked as though someone had been practising Iron Palm techniques on his face - appeared outside the bars, and started to unlock the door. Kei-Ying rose smoothly to meet him.

‘Visitor for ye,’ the man said. He opened the cell door and the Doctor stepped inside.

‘Doctor,’ Kei-Ying greeted him. ‘I hope everything is going well.’

‘As well as can be expected. Your cousin Yee is a very adept nurse, my friend, and follows orders very well. And that son of yours doesn’t seem to have let the change in management interfere with his training, either his own or the training of others.’

‘He’s a good man,’ Kei-Ying said.

‘Not everyone is as accommodating as your son,’ the Doctor admitted. ‘As a matter of fact I have received - and, I might say, accepted - my first challenge.’

‘Challenge? To a duel?’ Kei-Ying hadn’t expected this. He had thought the Doctor would simply take over the surgery and the administration of the school. There was no reason to challenge him as if he were a master. ‘Who?’

‘A young man in your employ, named Jiang.’

‘Jiang? I might have guessed.’ The man was a hothead and always had been. He was also good at what he did. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor. I had no idea this might happen. If you can persuade the English to let my son visit me, I will have him make sure Jiang’s challenge is withdrawn.’

‘You will do no such thing, sir! As a matter of fact I intend to go ahead with the match.’

‘You don’t have to.’

The Doctor leant on his walking stick, and his expression softened. ‘I have never been one to back down from difficulties. And if I do, your staff would have reason to believe me unworthy of the trust you place in me.’

Kei-Ying couldn’t help but smile. The Doctor was indomitable, and showed iron in his backbone. He would make an excellent Han, if not for the misfortune of being born in the west.

Jiang knelt before the abbot once more, one knee and both fists on the junk’s deck, keeping his eyes lowered.

‘My Lord, I have discredited the man who would most oppose your position in the Black Flag. He is in jail and cannot harm us. I have also challenged the man he forced into my rightful place, a
gwailo
who calls himself the Doctor.’

Jiang felt sudden heat on his head, the sensation of being a little too close to a lamp. When the abbot spoke again Jiang had to restrain himself from committing the disrespect of looking up at his face to see if it was still him who was speaking. The voice was different, louder, yet more distant, an echoing sound from the depths of hell. ‘Describe this hu-this man.’

Jiang found that his voice refused to work until he had swallowed a few times. ‘He...he is a
gwailo,
of normal height for a Han. He has long, white hair and a nose like a hawk.’

‘And his companions? Do they wear strange clothes?’

‘Yes, a new fashion from Europe, I think.’

‘But you have never seen such a material before?’

‘No... no, I haven’t. It is not silk, or cotton, or wool, or -’

‘You have told me enough. This man who calls himself the Doctor is known. He must be destroyed.’

‘Yes, my Lord. I will kill him.’

Major Chesterton walked along the north wall of the fortress at Xamian, taking in the fresh air. There was a hint of sea salt breezing in from the delta to the south. Behind him, men were drilling on the parade ground, and to either side sentries strolled around the walls. Across the river, Kwantung city’s waterfront was jumbled together in a thoroughly chaotic way.

Chesterton liked it. It was a symptom of a natural growth, not some imposition of order, and this appealed to him.

Though he enjoyed the ordered and regimented life of a soldier, he preferred to have nature around him. He wondered if being outdoors was part of the reason he had joined the army. He didn’t fancy the idea of spending his whole adult life working in an office or a factory, trapped indoors out of the fresh air.

The diabolical agony that had impaled his head for the last few days was finally abating, thanks to the powders the Doctor had delivered - along with a strong warning not to drink brandy with them. His headache was down to being a low throbbing above his ears, which was moderately annoy-ing, but thankfully it no longer felt as though a red-hot poker had been slid through his head from ear to ear.

With his headache finally fading, calm came over him at last. He knew it was really just normalcy returning, but for the moment it felt like a wave of happiness and calm at the centre of his life. The last time he had felt this was in Italy, watching the sunrise in the afterglow of making love.

He resisted the urge to shout with joy. He had remembered something! He and the dark-haired woman from the photograph in his office, making love in a villa. If there was anything better in life than the touch of a lover’s lips, he had yet to find it. He wondered where she was now, and why she wasn’t here in China with him. The joy left him, though a part of it remained, just close enough to suggest that things were going to be fine and that he needn’t worry.

He didn’t feel any pain or heartache when he thought about her, so he doubted that she had left him or died. More likely she was waiting for him somewhere. The truth was undoubtedly buried in some part of his scrambled brain, but he could hardly ask Logan or Anderson about details of his own love life.

He descended from the wall, wondering how many of the soldiers on duty knew him better than he currently did himself.

Logan watched Major Chesterton from the armoury door. The major looked a little better to him, and Logan was mentally grateful to the Doctor for helping. He wasn’t quite right yet, though, and this made Logan sad.

He had surreptitiously taken on a few extra duties, taking the workload off the major, and felt the extra effort and fewer hours for sleeping were worth it. The major deserved every chance to get better.

Ian and Barbara arrived back at Po Chi Lam to find the Doctor glaring at three rows of children in the warm and welcoming courtyard. He himself stood on the veranda that held the courtyard in a relaxed embrace. The children wore grey smocks and were sinking into leg stretches. This seemed to be the intent, anyway. But half of them were running around yelling and threatening to bowl over the others.

‘You there, stop that!’ the Doctor said, pointing his cane at a boy who was trying to leapfrog over one of the children who was stretching.

Neither Ian nor Barbara could suppress their laughter. The Doctor threw them a withering look. ‘And what are you two chuckling about, pray?’

Ian cleared his throat to stifle the laughter, and put on a mock-serious tone. ‘We were just admiring your skills, Doctor.’

Yes,’ Barbara agreed. ‘It’s very important to pass on knowledge and educate the young. We would never dismiss such an important task. But you have to admit you seem to be having trouble keeping discipline.’

‘And what do you suggest I should do, eh? Give them a sound spanking?’ This last was directed more at the misbe-having children than the two teachers.

‘Ah,’ Ian said. He tutted theatrically. ‘So quick to violence.’

He lowered his voice, so only Barbara could hear. ‘All the same, I think I’m very happy I didn’t become a junior-school teacher.’

‘Me too.’ Barbara raised her voice and addressed the Doctor: ‘Perhaps if you demonstrated?’

Ian snorted, trying and failing to imagine the Doctor doing the splits. ‘Those who can, do, those who can’t, teach?’ he offered.

‘And those who can’t teach, try to teach teachers,’ the Doctor replied acidly.

‘Touché.’ Ian walked round the edge of the courtyard to the veranda, and Barbara followed him. ‘Barbara’s right about the demonstration,’ he said more seriously. ‘There must be a more senior student here who could do that for you.’

‘My dear fellow,’ the Doctor said, his tetchiness apparently an illusion. ‘How very kind of you to offer.’

Before Ian could ask what he meant, the Doctor had handed him a sheet with diagrams of warming-up exercises on it. This is what they need to be doing. I’ll just go and fetch a senior student.’

He scuttled off with surprising speed, chuckling to himself.

Ian bit his tongue to hold in the curse that wanted to burst forth. Barbara patted his shoulder in sympathy. ‘There are two of us,’ she said. ‘We’ll manage.’

Vicki and Fei-Hung were having lunch and watching the exercise class through a window. Fei-Hung seemed distracted and Vicki knew he must be worried about his father. She understood his sense of loss all too well, though she envied him the fact that he would see his father again.

‘They work well as a team,’ Fei-Hung said, nodding towards Ian and Barbara, who had gone into full teaching mode. ‘It’s rare that a man and wife share the same trade, but I think I like the idea.’

Vicki giggled. ‘They’re not man and wife. They’re just friends. Remember?’

Fei-Hung looked sceptical. ‘I still think they are married, inside.’

Vicki shook her head. ‘At least, I don’t think so.’

‘Then they should be. And you should be thinking about marriage soon, too.’ Vicki nearly choked on her tea. She wondered if this was his idea of flirting. Or, if she was honest with herself, she hoped rather than wondered.

‘You’re not married yet, are you?’

‘Not yet. But I have a fiancée. Her name is Law.’

His smile was a mix of desire and contentment, and Vicki found herself responding to it with a sinking feeling. Fei-Hung looked through the window again. ‘What happened this week makes me wonder. If I were injured like Ian - or worse -

how would she feel?’

Vicki tried to think of something practical to say. ‘If she loves you, I suppose she’d want to look after you.’

‘She does, and she would. It’s just... It would affect her life.

The fear and worry... I’m not sure I could put her, or anyone, through that.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ Vicki said. ‘I think it just means you love her too.’

‘And you? Have you ever been in love?’

‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted. ‘I think so.’

‘Was this a boy on your ship? Or at home?’

‘There were no boys my age on the ship.’ She got up, a little red-faced. ‘I’d better go and see if the Doctor needs any help,’

she said abruptly.

Fei-Hung nodded politely.

If the small fishing town had a name - and all towns did - the abbot had no idea what it was. Names of places didn’t matter, except to those who lived there and called them home. ‘Home’ was a name that could well be applied to everywhere.

The sky was smeared with the aftertaste of smoke and ash, and the air was filled with the shouts of guards ordering raggedly dressed prisoners to work. Patrols of armoured men wearing black silk armbands and flattened basket-like hats moved through the streets.

Most of the larger buildings were still standing, with armoured guards outside and off-duty troops inside, crashed out into exhausted sleep in their underwear. By the riverside the thin masts of small, flat-bottomed fishing boats stuck up from the waters. The boats were submerged and their masts, some broken or charred, were tilted at odd angles. A large junk was moored by the only jetty, guarded by troops with rifles.

A monastery sat at the other end of the town. It was built of brick, plaster and tile, all raised on a sort of embankment of stones. Terraced gardens, exercise areas and stairways surrounded it. The walls were stained with scorch marks.

Inside, all religious trappings had been removed. A statue stood in each of the four corners of the main hall. All four were life-sized and in the shape of a man in armour. Where a large smiling Buddha statue had once sat, the abbot now gazed down from a throne. He regretted the destruction of parts of the town but it had been necessary. Sometimes, he reflected, one had to cut away at infected tissue to preserve the whole. He was more relaxed than he had been on the junk; he preferred dry land under his feet. Land was solid and supported people. It didn’t swallow them the way the sea and rivers did.

He could sense Zhao and Gao approaching, and was glad to receive them. Their service had been exemplary. The two men approached and saluted, right fist cupped in left palm.

‘My Lord,’ they said together.

They exchanged a glance, each seeming to offer the other the chance to speak first.

‘We have brought the astrologers you require,’ Gao said.

‘There are but three, but they seem as competent as any.’

‘Bring them in, General.’

Gao nodded to a guard waiting in the doorway, who immediately stepped aside. Three middle-aged men in the dark robes and skullcaps of court scholars shuffled fearfully in.

Three guards flanked them.

‘Do you know who I am?’ the abbot asked.

‘Leader of the Black Flag,’ one of them said. ‘Lei-Fang’s...

replacement.’

‘Yes. Do you love China?’

There was a chorus of affirmative replies from the astrologers.