Chapter 41

Indeed, Chen had received his own telegram:

Chen Ming-teh K&ASR Wichita Kan 10Dec1888

I have a black bird you may want. I believe you and I have some trading to complete.

Mao Wuying Golden Harvest Honey San Francisco Calif

Mid-morning, two days later, Malik was in the main cabin of Chen’s Lincoln Falls Loop, crossing into Arizona Territory, coupled to the end of a Santa Fe main line express train. Elsewhere on that train were the two K&ASR police officers, Bill McCroskey, the thirty-nine year old captain who supervised the security division, and Detective Sergeant Wayne DeWitt, twenty-nine, the Security Section’s trouble shooter.

A somewhat subdued Malik had been drawn into a conversation with Chen about family, but more about family and friends who had been snatched from life: significant, beloved individuals who seemed to be the actual meaning and purpose of life -- suddenly gone from existence, leaving behind gaping holes, even in one’s most basic appreciation of self.

That conversation was brought to an abrupt end with the return of McCroskey and DeWitt, the two purposely-nondescript policemen.

McCroskey, trying to get a handle on the type of situation they might face, had asked Chen if he had an estimate of the circumstances in San Francisco.

Chen admitted he was not sure what they might expect, but said his best guess was they may be dealing with a Chinese criminal organization known as a triad. He also acknowledged there might be some connection to the role he played for nearly ten years as a commercial envoy for an insurgent kingdom during the ultimately-unsuccessful Taiping Rebellion, a quarter century earlier. He mentioned that the San Francisco chapter of one particular triad, the Tiger Poppy Society, had attempted to intimidate him during that period.

As McCroskey sought further clarity, Chen provided a lengthy description of Chinese socio-centricity and how it contributed to the rise of self-help organizations and the emergence of criminal triads. But more, he explained how self-help societies demonstrated a cultural archetype that was little understood in the west but which was intrinsic to Chinese culture.

In the end, Chen suggested that it might not be a triad, itself, they were facing, but possibly the triad leader who had been using the organization to pursue a personal vendetta.

After dinner, as the train moved through the California desert on Southern Pacific right-of-way, McCroskey, DeWitt, and the West brothers were playing pinochle at a table across the lounge, while Malik and Chen were in what had become their accustomed seats at the back of the car.

Malik said, “Ming, what alerted you to Stone Raven’s kidnapping? You had to have known at least a day before word reached me.”

Ming sighed. Then he reached into the inside pocket of the silk leisure jacket that he had been wearing during the trip. He produced a folded telegram, which he handed to Malik.

It was a message from a man named Mao Wuying, in San Francisco, and it spoke vaguely of a black bird -- presumably Stone Raven -- and of a trade to complete.

“But how did you know this was about Raven?” Malik persisted.

Chen looked at his hands and said, “I did not, at least not at first. Frankly, I thought it was about my sister, Niao.” He looked at Malik. “I have a confession to make. Ever since Senator Aldecott’s murder, with the evidence of the involvement of the Tiger Poppy Society, I have had men watching for telegraph messages on our lines that might indicate that Society’s involvement.”

Malik pulled himself forward in the chair. “What? You mean every telegram--”

“Yes, yes, that is exactly what I mean. I broke the law. To put it into perspective, it is not the first law I have broken in my life. Nor do I think you, of all people, Shadow, are in a position to cast the first stone.”

Malik sat back, chastened. “You’re correct. Please excuse my undeserved righteousness.”

“That is not important, Emil. I simply caught you unprepared. But this should teach you not to put others on pedestals. We are all human, subject to the same weaknesses.

“In any case, that is how I discovered it might all be about Stone Raven.”

Malik was thoughtful for a few seconds, then asked, “What made you think that it was about your sister?”

Again, Chen sighed. “Because that is what Mao was holding over me, when I was the envoy for the Heavenly Kingdom. He said he could get Niao out of China and to the United States. All I had to do was turn over the gold that I had in a vault drawer at the bank. But that gold was donated by a wealthy Chinese merchant, a Christian, for the defense of the Heavenly Kingdom. It was a line I would not cross.”

“But why, after all these years...?”

“I suspect he thinks I still have that gold, or some derivative of it, because the gold disappeared when the rebellion was quashed. Mao thinks I took the gold, but I believe it was taken by the man in charge of my security. His triad had accepted a contract to protect me and my assets. The triad was a group called the Dawn of Justice Society. Ah, I see you know of it.” Malik had suddenly turned to a closer angle on Chen.

“Yes. Peng Yan was with them for a number of years.”

“That I did not know.” Chen said, then resumed his narrative. “I do not think Han Bo took the gold for himself, but for his society.”

“I don’t understand. If it was in a bank’s safety vault, how did he get it?”

Chen shook his head. “When word came that the Heavenly Kingdom had fallen, my situation immediately descended into chaos. I was in Sacramento, and it took me more than a day to get back to San Francisco. When I reached my home, everything, and everyone was gone. Curtains, furniture, clothing, art pierces, records and files, as well as all of the staff. Even the woman who had been my qie for seven years.” He sighed, once more. “The vault drawer key, which had been hidden atop the door frame, inside a closet, was, likewise, gone.”

“As head of security, Han Bo was the only other person who knew where I kept that key. At the same time, he and I were superficially similar in appearance, not that it would have made any difference to the bank staff, as I am certain all Chinese looked the same to them. My signature at the time was a hanzi (HAN-zli, traditional Han Chinese writing form) character, the nuances of which are likewise indecipherable to most westerners.

“For all that, I was always pleased that it was the Dawn of Justice Society that likely had the benefit of that treasure. Had I secured it then, I would have been honor-bound to return it to the businessman who had donated it, while the temptation to use it to ransom my sister would have been overwhelming. On the other hand, I had no real confidence that Mao Wuying would have delivered on his promise once he had the gold.

“To bring my tale to the present, I suspect very strongly that the gold that disappeared from the Buchholz mine ended up with Mao. However, I am less certain that he delivered that gold to his society’s coffers.”

“You’ve suggested before that this Mao may be working for himself. What makes you think so?”

“The style of this operation has been much too, oh, disjointed for a group like Tiger Poppy. Ordinarily, we would not have been left in the dark about the true purpose of their extortion, nor to whom we owed that tribute. But, from the beginning, we have been toyed with, like a cat plays with a mouse it has captured. I believe Mao has followed this convoluted course for his own amusement, and he has allowed several society members to be killed simply to keep his game going. Such inefficiencies are not tolerated in the Tiger Poppy hierarchy. They are ruthless, but not careless.”

“Would that make any difference to our purposes?”

“To a degree. For one, it would mean he does not have the full resources of the Society behind him. It is also likely that he has drawn his company from amongst the dregs and hangers-on of the Society, because the brighter members would immediately realize that something was amiss. Moreover, that means that Mao is likely vulnerable to the Society’s chain of command, either to those immediately under him or those over him. He may have bought some of them off, but I doubt it, as the Tiger Poppy Society is very insistent on integrity within the ranks. I think Mao is ‘out on a limb,’ as the saying goes. That does not mean he is not a very dangerous man or that he has no resources on which he may depend. After all, he has held his position for over thirty years. That is not a mean feat among the Tiger Poppy Society.”

“Do you have some expectations of how things might proceed?”

“Only to expect that he will want to meet. That may end up being a negotiation in itself, as I have no intention of walking into the lion’s den.”

Malik leaned closer to Chen and spoke quietly, though the noise of the train’s passage was sufficient to cover their conversation up to this point. “You should know that I am not without relevant skills. Nor is young Juniper.”

Chen looked at him speculatively. “I do not know Juniper, except for having met him, but I have suspected as much about you.

“We performed a rather thorough investigation, before you were invited to join the Board of Directors. I am aware of your excursions with your father and of the manner in which Jackson County’s political leadership was reformed, after they attacked you and your brother. I’ve made note of the number of people who have done your family and friends ill, which people then have died or disappeared, including a United States Senator. Yet, here you sit, just like me, with no taint to our names.”

“Yes, well,” Malik said, “I’ll leave all that to your imagination. But what I will admit to is being able to move with an unusual degree of stealth and to being able to shoot rapidly and accurately. And, I suppose, when defending my friends and family, I have to admit to some ruthlessness, myself.”

Chen nodded, then asked, “And Juniper?”

“Honestly? He’s even better. I can’t speak to him being as ruthless, but I’m willing to bet my life on it, should it be demanded of him.”

Just before midnight in La Paz, the Lincoln Falls Loop was uncoupled from a yard switcher, having been spotted on the same storage spur as had Malik’s coach, in early September. With plans to seek out Juniper at first light, Malik was in his cabin, having just removed his shoulder holster, when there was a knock on his door.

Chen’s muffled voice said, “Emil, it’s Ming. There are some people here to see you.”

Malik slipped the shoulder rig back on and went to the door. Outside stood Ming, still in his silk jacket. He said, “Come to the parlor. I think you will like this.”

Malik followed Chen back to the parlor he had just left. There, standing awkwardly in the middle of the open cabin, were a beaming Juniper and a bedraggled Stone Raven.

Malik stopped in his tracks and just stared, open mouthed, then suddenly moved to the two young men and embraced them both at the same time. “Oh, thank god,” he mumbled, his head between theirs, as he tightened his embrace.

He released them but took Stone Raven by the shoulders and looked him over. There were bruises on his face, his shirt was torn at the neck, and his trousers and shoes were muddy., and his clothes were somehow sticky-feeling, Malik said, “I can see you’ve been beaten. Have you been injured grievously? Do you need a doctor?”

“No, Shadow, I’m just hurting some, here and there.”

Simon West walked up with a tray holding two water-filled glasses and a full carafe. Malik stood back so Juniper and Stone Raven could reach the tray. They each took a glass and, with a quick “Thank you” to West, they gulped down the water.

While West refilled the glasses, Chen said, “Why don’t we all sit down?”

Stone Raven said, “I’d best not. These trousers are covered in honey.”

Robert West said, “I’ll bring some towels,” and he hurried off.

At that point, DeWitt and McCroskey entered the parlor cabin. Malik made the introductions, explaining that none of them had learned, yet, what had happened.

Once they were all seated, Malik looked at Stone Raven and asked, “Please tell us what happened.

Stone Raven leaned forward in his seat and said, “I was out by myself, against your advice, Shadow, and I’d gone to the Sleeping Dragon.”

Malik held up his hand to stop Stone Raven’s narrative and interjected, “That’s a Chinese restaurant in town, especially popular among the students because there are several dishes with low prices. I’m sorry, Stone Raven, please go ahead.”

Juniper smirked and said, “Better tell the whole story, Raven.”

“Fine, then. I’ve been keeping company with a young lady who works there and I didn’t want ol’ Study-or-die over there,” he hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward Juniper, “throwing a damper on the evening. I never even got in the Dragon’s door. Four men stepped out of the dark, one hit me in the head with something, and they put me in a large canvas sack. I struggled, but was struck with what I presume were their cudgels. They dragged me off, it felt like just a few blocks. And no, Shadow, I didn’t have my knife. We were told we could not wear them around the school grounds.

“Eventually, the bag was dumped onto a hard surface and I heard a door close and lock. When I was able to escape the bag, I found myself in a small room with a high ceiling. I believe the walls and floor were concrete. The ceiling looked to be lumber trusses supporting the roof, but it was fourteen or fifteem feet above the floor, and I’m not sure what help it would have been to reach them, even so. The room had only some dim light that came in over the tops of the walls, which stopped a few feet short of the roof. I had already rolled into some dry honey when escaping the bag and there were several mostly dried-up pools of honey on the floor. The only thing in the room was a large bucket.

“They brought food and water once a day. Mostly rice. I was told I would not receive more until the next day, and only if I returned the bowl and chopsticks I had been provided.

“When they came with the food the second day, I ran at them, screaming my best Sonora war cry. While I thought there were only two men, there were actually four, and they each had a long bamboo truncheon. That’s when most of this happened.” He gestured toward his face. “My shoulders and arms look much the same, probably my back, too. Needless to say, I did not receive food or water that day.”

“I was fed, again, on the third day. Then, late that night, that is, late tonight, I heard one of the guards cry out, then something thumped against the door. A few minutes later, the door was opened, and there was Juniper. We pretty much just walked out, once I stepped over the two bodies.

“For the rest of it, you’ll have to ask Juniper.” He refilled his water glass and began drinking.

Simon West brought in sandwiches and set them near Juniper and Stone Raven, the latter immediately reaching for one.

Malik turned to Juniper and said, “Well?”

Juniper grinned, but then looked grimmer as he began. “When Raven didn’t return on Monday night, I knew something was wrong. Early the next morning, a message was delivered. Even before I opened it, I asked our dorm monitor who had brought it. He said it was some Chinese man. I immediately ran outside to see if I could spot him. There was one man, walking toward town, in the typical loose clothing that I presume is traditional Chinese wear. The Chinese students and staff usually wear American styles, so the man stood out. I followed him.

“He led me to the honey processing building. I set up in a spot where I could keep an eye on the place, without being seen.

“At that point, I took the opportunity to read the note. It said, ‘Tell Chen Ming-teh we have a black bird to trade.’ I decided to break my vigil to send you a telegram, Shadow.”

McCroskey asked, “Why do they keep calling you Shadow?”

Juniper smirked. “Shadow hasn’t told you of his exploits?”

Malik interrupted, “It’s what the Indians call me; the reason isn’t important, right now. Juniper, don’t get distracted. Tell us what happened.”

“Of course. Sorry.” Juniper took a breath and continued, “My overwatch allowed me to notice that men and women, in uniformly white clothing, left the building about sundown. But, throughout the day, there were also rough-looking men coming and going. Most wore what I assume was traditional Chinese street garb, and most carried bamboo staves, though none of them appeared to require walking aids.

“After nightfall, I went to the Sleeping Dragon and asked Xing Bai, she’s Stone Raven’s romantic interest, if he had been there the prior evening. She said that he had not been there. While I was there, I ate a meal and asked Bai to pack me a lunch, like they do for some of the fisherman, and for a jar of tea to carry away.

“I had spotted a large oak tree whose branches overhung the roof of the honey factory. I climbed up in it, stashed my food, and crawled onto the factory’s roof so I could look in through the skylight windows. I saw four men playing mah-jongg near a door off a corner of the main processing area. At about ten o’clock, two of the men left. I watched until after midnight, then went back to the tree, found a notch, and went to sleep.

“I was back on the roof at first light, the oak branches lending some cover to my position. At noon, the packing workers, who were those dressed in white, went outside to eat their lunches. It was then I saw the men, there were four of them, again, unlock and open the door they’d been sitting near. I saw Stone Raven, with a truly blood-curdling cry, come rushing out the door. But the men had anticipated that possibility and were positioned to intercept him with their staves. It was brutal, but only lasted a few seconds. I watched until nightfall, then went back to my room before curfew.”

“To catch up on his classwork, I’m certain,” interjected Stone Raven.

Juniper grinned at him, then said, “I needed to do something to dampen my worry.” Then he looked at Malik, “The next morning, while it was still dark, I grabbed my bow and quiver, which hang on the wall of our room like a display of Indian artifacts. I also went to the maintenance shed and borrowed some rope. Of course, I took my knife, but our firearms had been locked away by the college, though I really didn’t miss them.

“The windows in the roof could be opened from inside, using a long bamboo pole, and they were usually open during the day. A couple, however, did not close completely when the brackets were released, and I chose one in a dark corner to lower myself onto the building’s ceiling rafters. I perched there while the men played mah-jongg. After two of them left, I waited another hour, then used arrows to dispose of the other two. I had to untie my rope from above in order to use it to get down to the floor from the rafters, so it took a few minutes to release Stone Raven. We came directly here.”

Malik looked toward Chen, who shrugged.

Simon West said, “We have folding cots we can set up. Meanwhile, the two young men could avail themselves of our bathing shower room. I believe Robert and I will have clean clothing that will be of adequate fit.”

Chen said, “Thank you, Mister West.”

Malik said, “Go with them. It’s already after one o’clock. We all need some sleep. We’ll sort this out in the morning.”

Chen said, “Is breakfast at eight o’clock tolerable?”

To everyone’s assent, Chen said, “Then sleep well, gentlemen.”

Malik awoke a few minutes past six. He saw to his personal needs, then dressed and made his way to the parlor. There he found Chen, drinking tea. The two young Indians were snoring away, in the far corner.

Chen said, quietly, “There’s only hot water, no coffee. There’s a water tank attached to the stove. Here’s the brew pot. I left the tea out on the counter.”

Malik made tea for both of them, then sat down.

“What do you think?” Chen asked.

“I think that this isn’t over. He’s after you, Ming. Or your supposed gold treasure. Or both. I see two possible solutions: we deliver you and the imaginary gold to Mao, or we eliminate him and his men.”

“By eliminate, you mean...?”

“I mean eliminate. You and I know how established criminal gangs work: they will have the police, and probably the court, in their pocket. We will have to deal with Mao ourselves.”

There was a knock on the coach door.

A minute later, Simon West came in, carrying an envelope.

He handed it to Cheng and said, “A somewhat rough-looking Chinese man delivered this.”

Chen said “Thank you, Mister West,” as he accepted the envelope.

West said, “Of course, sir.” Then he looked at Malik. “I’ll make coffee.”

Malik said, “Go back to bed.”

“I’ll have to get up in a half hour, anyway. If I start now, I can make waffles.”

Malik grinned, “I’d be a fool to try to talk you out of that. Suit yourself.”

In the meantime, Chen had opened and read the note. He held it up so that Malik could see the scrawled hanzi characters with a number 10 in their midst.

Chen said, “It purports to be from Mao. It says, ‘There remains another bird, though much older.’ It says I am to come to the Golden Harvest Honey plant at ten o’clock, tonight.”

“What ‘bird’ could he have?”

“My sister, Niao. Her name translates to bird.”

Malik’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you think he really has her, here, in California?”

“I have no way of knowing.”

“Even so, he’ll want the non-existent gold treasure.”

“I have brought some gold, in case we needed it to ransom Stone Raven.”

“Even if your sister is here, and you give him your gold, I can’t see him releasing either of you, not after all this time and trouble.”

Chen sighed. “No, probably not.”