Third that..."
"They what?"
"Isn't that true? Wasn't that part of Tyler Brock's plot? Or Morgan's? Certainly Jamie is of that opinion--he would swear to it.
Mr. Skye told me about the duel, the rest I forced from Jamie--why there was a duel. Wasn't Norbert just a pawn for murder?"
"Maybe," Gornt said, overwhelmed by her.
"Probably. Next?"
"Next." Her voice became quieter but oddly, clearer: "Please tell her it's because of me you're bringing her the evidence to destroy Brock's--you must keep stressing that."
"Because of you?"
"Because of me. Yes. Emphasize that. It's important to me, not much to ask, and you will get what you want anyway."
"You're sure?"
"Yes. You tell her you were going to forget this written contract you had with her son, believing it to be valueless now. But because I asked you, pleaded with you to see her in his stead, you decided to rush to Hong Kong to see her." She leaned closer.
"The information, must it be acted on quickly?"
"Yes," he said.
"Then emphasize that. But most of all, keep stressing it was I who persuaded you to go to her, my pleading persuaded you to see her to give her the evidence to destroy Malcolm's enemies and hers ... that I assured you she would honor the contract, or give you an equivalent. And she will. Tess Struan will, I guarantee."
"With your signature?"
"That's the first thing she will notice, so mention it in advance. Say Malcolm asked me to witness his signature, saying only it was a business contract between you two, which I did in front of you, without thought--on Monday, before the party. I didn't read it, nor ask about it. Last, say you have an urgent letter from me, and give it to her."
Angelique picked up her glass. "If she reads it in front of you, she probably won't, but if she does, I'd like to know what she says or does."
Now she took a second sip, leaned back, waiting, her eyes locked on his.
Her face still told him nothing. "What's in the letter?"
"You may read it, if you wish, before I seal it." She added lightly, without spite, "It will save you the bother of opening it."
His mind was pondering the conundrum of her.
"And the news of his death, your marriage and his death, how do I tell her that and all the rest?"
"I don't know, Edward. You will know how to do that."
He grunted, astounded by the gall, no not gall, more by the cunning. Obviously, her goal was to slide into Tess's favor out of the existing enmity, and to forestall any action, civil or criminal, that a mother such as Tess Struan, torn apart by the agony of her loss, might, will, unleash against her--the current betting five to one Tess Struan would, two to one she would win.
Never mind that, this strategy could squeeze Angelique into the winner's circle--could. With care, not quite as she had suggested it, much more subtly than that, he could do what she proposed without harming his own position and make his deal with Tess who would certainly give him everything he wanted--once the shock of her son's death had lessened and she could appreciate the enormity of what he had to offer.
Better for me to ease Angelique off the Tess Struan barb, much better. What should I ask in return? Her signature, of course but what else? What else do I want from her?
There are all kinds of gambit I co-- Angelique was reaching for the pen. Her face was grave as she signed her name as witness, dating it the day before yesterday. Silently she powdered it dry, blew the excess away, and placed it in front of him, her eyes still downcast.
"Whatever you decide, this is yours now, freely," she said, gambling on his well-advertised sense of honor. "As for the rest, if you help me, Edward," now she looked up at him, something inside of him stirred deliciously, "you would also have my gratitude, my undying gratitude, forever."
Inside the shoya's dwelling, Jamie sat cross-legged on the tatami, shoeless, Hiraga opposite him. At the head of the table was the shoya, and sak`e and tea.
For an hour or more Jamie had answered and asked questions, Hiraga translating, hesitating over the strange words, wanting further explanations to understand clearly. Jamie was tired, not because of the time spent here, a fascinating and a welcome relief from all his other troubles, but because there seemed to be no solution to them. He had been upset by Sir William's refusal to be swayed over the burial, though understanding perfectly --he would have done the same in his position. Poor Angelique, poor Malcolm, poor Noble House. Even poor bloody Tess.
Something has to give. It won't be Wee Willie. It has to be Angelique--there's nothing she or anyone can do. This time I think it will break her.
As simply as he could he had laid out his idea for a joint venture, the shoya and his contacts supplying the goods on consignment they agreed on, Jamie supplying the European know-how, a six months leeway for payment which would give time for the goods to be sold and the money either to come back, or to be reinvested in mass-produced goods that they, in return, would advise the joint venture to import. This led into a discussion of quantities, then into mass production methods that could make them all rich.
"Shoya ask: What cost your massu produk'shun machine?"
"It depends what the machines are to make,"
Jamie said.
"Jami-sama, he ask you, p'rease, you say what goods to make to se're in Ing'rund. Not now, in three day, p'rease. If shoya agree, perhaps make stoku kompeni and bring massu produk'shun machine to Nippon."
Jamie smiled. "Mass production is initially expensive to set up, machines and factory. It's not like the joint venture I suggested. There's no way I could raise that much money."
"Jami-sama, you not worry, not worry about money. Gyokoyama can buy-se're Yedo if want." Hiraga smiled grimly as Jamie blinked. "Shoya thank you and I thank you.
P'rease, in three days, you say what to make and price. I see you home."
"No need for that, thanks."
Hiraga bowed, the shoya bowed, Jamie bowed back equally and went into the evening air.
"Tea, Sire?" the shoya asked.
Hiraga nodded a yes, preparing to leave, needing a bath and massage, but pleased with himself, everything done now except to collect Jami Mukfey's supposed fee of the three koku.
The shoya ordered fresh tea. When the maid had gone, he said, "I have some news. By carrier pigeon, Otami-sama, about Lord Yoshi, and about the shishi you might like to hear."
"Stop playing games! Of course I wish to hear." Now that he was alone with the shoya, Hiraga became imperious and samurai without noticing it. "What news?"
"There's been another attempt on Lord Yoshi."
"He's dead?" Hiraga said hopefully.
"No, Otami-sama, here, please read for yourself." With pretended meekness the shoya offered the sliver of paper, the same he had previously shown to Raiko and Meikin: An assassination attempt on Yoshi at dawn at Hamamatsu village failed. Lone shishi assassin slain by him. Lady Koiko also dead in skirmish.
Inform Wisteria our great sadness. More information soon as possible.
Hiraga read it, and gasped. "When did this happen?"
"Five days ago, Otami-sama."
"Nothing further?"
"Not yet."
Reading the message, his headache seemed to become even worse, his thoughts jumbled. Koiko dead, another shishi dead! Who? If she's dead what about Sumomo? "You've informed the House of Wisteria?"
"Yes, Otami-sama."
"What did Meikin say?"
"She was distraught, Otami-sama, naturally."
"What else do you know, shoya?"
"What I know that affects you and shishi, I tell you."
"What about Katsumata and Takeda?"
"The word, Sire, they were still travelling towards us, as, supposedly, Lord Yoshi is."
"When does he arrive back? Has he changed his plans now?" he asked, his mind tumbling. If Koiko was killed in the skirmish, was it by accident, or had Yoshi discovered Koiko had tentacles to us, as Meikin has? "Eh?"