CHAPTER 13

1896

Two things are very clear. There is a gun pointed toward them and at the end of that gun is a child. He can be only eight or nine, dressed in a loose singlet and grubby shorts. His bare feet are caked in dirt. His head is closely shaven, so that his eyes look large in his skull. He shouts something in a language neither Eliza nor Axel understand. They risk a brief glance at each other, hands still raised.

“We mean no trouble,” says Axel quickly. “We’re just looking for her father.” He gestures toward Eliza with a tip of his head, but his foreign tongue angers the child, who explodes with a high-pitched volley of words, shifting the revolver back and forth between them. Eliza’s eyes cling to the slender barrel, the boy’s small fingers clenched around the grip. She has never been in a room with a gun before; she is surprised at the intimacy of it.

“Maybe we should get on our knees?” whispers Axel. “Show willing?” They both bend slowly until they are kneeling in front of the boy, who shows no sign of dropping the Webley. As they peer up at him, a figure materializes in the doorway, a body silhouetted against the fierce sun. Eliza blinks. He is holding the fish.

“What the fuck is going on?”

The man speaks quickly in accented English. He steps over the threshold and surveys the two strangers on their knees. He murmurs a string of cusses under his breath and the boy sighs and lowers the weapon. The man dismisses him with a wave of the hand and places the fish on the floor. The child tosses the gun onto the stool and skulks out into the heat.

The man, now pacing back and forth in front of them, has a Bowie knife tucked into the waistband of his trousers. Eliza can see that it glints whenever he passes through the light just so.

“I am going to give you five seconds to tell me what you are doing in this house or I’ll slit your throats.” The threat is as easy as a sigh. He reaches for the bone handle and draws the blade slowly from his belt.

“We mean nothing untoward,” Axel stammers. “We did not know there were stones here. That’s not why we came. You have my word.”

“Your word?” The man’s face dissolves into a sly grin. “Thank you so much, sir, for giving me your word.” Spittle flies from his mouth. His eyes flare with anger. “You knew they were here and that is why you came. To steal from us.” Eliza’s eyes slip sideways to Axel’s face, which is pale with terror. She hears him gulp noisily.

“Sir. I have money,” she says calmly. “I can give you money if you just let us go.” The man pauses, considers, allowing the knife to dangle loosely from his hand. He is being careless with it. He cannot see them as a threat. Eliza’s eyes flit to the gun on the stool.

“Show me.”

She slowly moves her feet. “I’m going to stand up now.” She rises, palms out, and reaches into the front of her blouse. The man twitches. With a shift she pulls a handful of bank notes from her bodice. He eyes the money cautiously, before beckoning her forward. She hesitates, takes a step, but just as he reaches out she sweeps her arm behind her back.

“Sir, I will give this money to you in exchange for any information you can give me about my father.” From behind her, Axel makes a strained gurgling sound. “I know he’s been here. That is why we’ve come. We are not interested in your pearls or any other business run out of this place.” She gestures around the room. “If you are willing to inspect, you will see the stones remain untouched. We had plenty of time to take them but we did not. Why you would leave them unattended I do not know.” Axel’s panicked groan grows louder. “We will tell no one they are here. We want none of that. We just want information about my father.”

His eyebrows quiver and the muscles of his cheek flex. With the knife still outstretched, he gestures behind them. “Move backward,” he barks. “Back!” They shuffle as far as they can to the back of the room until they are almost flat against the wall. The man returns the knife to his belt and goes to the stool to pick up the revolver. Then he moves to the table and examines the pearls. As he does, Eliza glances quickly behind her at the sign on the door. Zhou, it says. She knew it would.

After a long while, and when the man seems satisfied, he moves the cloth back over the stones.

“Turn out your pockets, give me the notes, and I won’t kill you.”

Axel, still on his knees, does as he is told. Eliza hands the money over reluctantly, but her eyes are fixed on the gun loose in the man’s fingers.

“Now I need reassurance that you haven’t hidden any of my stones elsewhere.” The man moves forward until his face is just inches from hers. This close, she can smell the grit set into his wrinkles, see the large black pores studded across his nose.

“Seeing as you were so clever as to tuck your money away in there, I’ll need to search it for my pearls too.” He leers down at her chest. This is his first mistake; it signals to her that he is distracted. His second, his cool hold on the gun, is a mark that he has foolishly underestimated them. Swiftly, she brings her arm down hard onto the man’s wrist. He cries out as the weapon falls with a clatter to the floor. For a moment they eyeball each other, frozen, and she is surprised to see, out the corner of her vision, Axel react so quickly. Before she can do anything he has swiped the revolver from the boards. Now back up on his feet, he levels it directly at the man. Eliza darts to join Axel’s side. The whole exchange of position can only have taken seconds, but the shift of power is so thick in the air you could slice it up and eat it.

“You wouldn’t know how to use it,” the man chides.

“Sir,” Eliza ignores the shake of the revolver in Axel’s grip. The man waves the unsheathed knife at them now, but they all know which weapon is fiercer. “Believe us when we say we have taken none of your snides. Now, I would be grateful if you would answer my questions.” The man does not react. She continues.

“My father.” She is surprised by her calmness. “Charles Brightwell is his name. He’s captain of the White Starling lugger. I believe he had business with you. Now he is missing.”

The man glowers at them. “You think I killed some white pearler? You think I’m that foolish?”

“That is not what we’re saying.” Axel’s voice is thin. “My friend here is very upset by her father’s disappearance. As I’m sure you will understand, being a family man yourself.” Eliza glares at him. The man looks blankly back at both of them.

“We have this.” Eliza pulls the piece of paper from her pocket. “It’s the address to this house. My father had it in his possession. There’s a name there too. Zhou A.” The man glances reluctantly at the scrawled writing. “My father is of average height and build, perhaps a bit taller than yourself,” says Eliza. “He has dark hair, a heavy mustache, and spectacles. You might have noticed his ring. Two sea snakes. He always wears it on his right index finger.”

The man’s gaze swoops from Eliza to Axel but his expression does not change. He looks, if anything, bored by the inconvenience.

“There has been no such man round here,” he eventually says dryly. “Men with fancy jewelry do not come to these parts. They are not welcome. Just as we are not welcome over there.” He nods out of the doorway. “You whites are only interested in our doctors or our brothels. You want to rid yourselves of your diseases or take what you want from our women. So unless your father is one of those men, no, he has not been here.”

She notices a thick vein close to the surface of his neck, wonders what it would be like to press the tip of a knife into it.

“It would serve you well not to talk about her father like that.” Axel has stepped forward and holds the gun more bullishly now. Eliza spots the briefest murmur of fear pass over the man’s face.

“All right, all right.” He tucks the knife back into his trousers, raising his fingers reluctantly from his waist in surrender. “We did have a man here,” he concedes. “Said he was from the White Starling.” Her breathing halts. How spectacularly mediocre—to get a man to tell the truth you merely had to threaten to spill his blood. “But this man, he was Japanese. Fancy-looking guy. Shiny suit.” Eliza’s mind flicks to Shuzo, the diver’s medals at his breast.

“What business did he have here?”

The man looks irritated. “I’ve given you what you asked for.”

Eliza holds his glare for a while, then signals to Axel. The man steps aside to let them pass.

Once outside, she takes the gun from Axel, moves its weight from hand to hand. It is unnerving, beautiful. She is surprised at the way it makes her heart beat so fast.