Jonathan Ching said: “I am at a loss as to how to deal with this situation.” He leaned back in his chair. “You were to deliver my daughter to Chea Swen-tai.”
“I did that. But he rejected her because she was not—”
Ching lowered his head. “Intact. Yes.”
Fargo said, coolly, “It was not her fault that she was violated by the madman, Carter.”
“But yours. You were to protect her from such dangers. That, among other things, was why I paid you.”
Fargo shrugged. “At least she’s still alive.”
“Yes. But my connection with the house of Chea is broken.”
Fargo lied smoothly. “Perhaps, then, it was my fault. But not hers. She could not fight off Carter. But certainly she was a virgin until then.”
“Of course she was. All the same ... to some extent, our contract is violated. I am grateful to you for saving my daughter’s life, of course, but—”
“But business is business and I didn’t deliver her in good order to Chea: the money, yes, but not your daughter.” Fargo rolled his cigar across his mouth. “I don’t suppose you could market her to any other Chinese husband now, could you?”
“No,” said Ching. “Of course not.”
“Then why don’t you let her go to England, like she wants to? The English aren’t as fussy as the Chinese. She could be happy there and probably find a wealthy husband as well. I don’t think that, with your connections in Hong Kong, connections in London would do you any harm.”
Ching’s eyes glittered. “There’s a point I hadn’t considered. And, of course, the English wouldn’t expect me to pay fifty thousand dollars marriage portion.”
“No,” Fargo said. “So, in a sense, you’ve saved that much.” And, since you’ve saved fifty thousand and your daughter and you’ll probably reap profitable connections out of all this, I’ll take my full fee. Plus the expenses.”
Ching rubbed his face. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Fargo.”
“It’s up to you, Mr. Ching.”
Ching was silent. Then he arose from the chair behind his desk. “I would lose face if I kept less than my word. You shall have your full fee, Mr. Fargo, expenses for the men you hired; and Jade shall go to England and make a good marriage there. Besides, the American Government seems to be so grateful for your breaking up this incipient insurrection that I do not care to forfeit their goodwill by angering you.”
“I saved them a hell of an investment in men and materiel, yes,” said Fargo. “Or, rather, the dynamite gun did.” He also arose. “You can make the draft payable to the Bank of San Francisco.”
“That is where you are bound?”
“Yes,” said Fargo. “That’s where I’m bound.”
“The money will be there when you arrive.” And Jonathan Ching put out his hand. “Thank you for saving my daughter,” he said, face softening.
“I didn’t, really. Chuang did.”
“But you risked your life for her, too; and you’re not Chinese. I’ll not burden you with more thanks, Mr. Fargo. But you’ll have your money. And you’ll say goodbye to Jade?”
“Yes,” said Fargo. “Where is she?”
“Upstairs,” said Ching. “Chuang will conduct you to her.”
~*~
“No,” Fargo said. “I travel light. I don’t tie myself down to any one woman, ever.”
Jade pressed her body against him. “But you are taking Marcy Carter back to the States.”
“Well, the government wants to talk to her about this whole affair. It’s nothing personal.”
“I think it is,” she said, “and I’m jealous.”
“Don’t be. You got out light. You weren’t beheaded or sold into slavery. In a sense, Spott Carter did you a favor. At least you have an excuse for not being a virgin. And you’ll live in England instead of northern Luzon.”
“I would be happy with my fate,” she said, “if my fate only included you.”
“No woman’s fate includes me,” he said. “Kiss me goodbye, Jade, and then I’m leaving.”
She looked at him with huge, dark, moist eyes. Then she turned her mouth upward. “All right,” she said.
~*~
O’Bannon stood beside Fargo on the dock. “Why leave? Think of all the opportunity here in the Islands to get rich. Don’t you want to be rich, Neal, me lad?”
“Of course I do,” Fargo said.
“Then stay.”
“Can’t. I had a letter from some people down in the oil fields in East Texas. They made me a proposition I can’t turn down.”
“Oil. You can get oil out of coconuts. Copra.”
“Sure. Enjoy your plantation and all those brown girls, you Mick.” Fargo hit O’Bannon on the arm. The ship blew its whistle. Fargo started toward the gangplank.
“Goodbye, you damned cavalryman.”
“So long, you blasted sunshiner.” Then Fargo went up the gangplank.
Later, after the ship had pulled out, he sat in the lounge with Marcy Carter.
“You’ll like the United States,” he said.
She was lovely, big breasts encased in a gown of yellow silk. “I’ll like anywhere that’s not out in the mountains of Luzon. But ... Fargo, are you sure you can do it?”
“I can do it,” he answered. “I can smuggle anything in anywhere.”
“Even part of the Confederate treasury? Gold that’s over fifty years old? In strange coin?”
“Leave it to me. By the time you get through talking to the people in Washington, I’ll have it melted down and in bars. Then you can sell it anywhere—all sixty thousand dollars worth.”
“And how much do you want?” She looked at him out of half-lidded eyes. “For your share.”
“Only twenty per cent. Twelve thousand.”
“You’ll have it. After I’m through in Washington, I’ll meet you in New Orleans. You did say New Orleans, didn’t you?”
“I said New Orleans.”
“I’ll see you there. I can trust you with the gold?”
Fargo grinned. “If you couldn’t, I’d lose face.”
Marcy looked at him gravely. “Actually, it’s not the money that concerns me.”
Fargo looked back, eyes raking over her lush body. “What does?”
“You,” she said. Then she added: “I gave you a key once.”
“Yes,” said Fargo. “To a powder magazine. It made all the difference.”
Marcy’s hand went into the bosom of the low-cut dress. “I have another one for you.” And she handed it to him. “Use it tonight.”
Fargo looked at it. Then he looked at her and he grinned.
“Sure,” he said.
It was the key to her stateroom.