Noble House

Inexorably his eyes went back to the Great House on the Peak. He was possessed by it and by a hatred so vast that it swept his mind back to his ancestors, to Sir Morgan Brock whom the Struans broke, to Gorth Brock whom Dirk Struan murdered, to Tyler Brock whom his daughter betrayed. Without wishing it, he renewed the oath of vengeance that he had sworn to his father, that his father had sworn to his—back to Sir Morgan Brock who, penniless, destroyed by his sister, Hag Struan, paralyzed, a shell of a man, had begged for vengeance on behalf of all the Brock ghosts on the Noble House and all the descendents of the most evil man who had ever lived.
Oh gods give me strength, Quillan Gornt prayed. Let the American be telling the truth. I will have vengeance.
28
10:50 A.M. :
The sun bore down on Aberdeen through a slight overcast. The air was sultry, ninety-two degrees Fahrenheit with ninety percent humidity. It was low tide. The smell of rotting kelp and offal and exposed mudflats added to the oppressive weight of the day.
There were five hundred or more sullen impatient people jamming against one another, trying to surge through the bottleneck of barriers ahead that the police had erected outside this branch of Ho-Pak. The barriers allowed only one person through at a time. Men and women of all ages, some with infants, were constantly jostling each other, no one waiting a turn, everyone trying to inch forward to get to the head of the line.
"Look at the bloody fools," Chief Inspector Donald C.C. Smyth said. "If they'd stretch out and not crowd they'd all get through quicker, and we could leave one copper here to keep order and the rest of us could go to lunch instead of getting the riot squad ready. Do it!"
"Yes sir," Divisional Sergeant Mok said politely. Ayeeyah, he was thinking as he walked over to the squad car, the poor fool still doesn't understand that we Chinese are not stupid foreign devils— or devils from the Eastern Sea—who'll line up patiently for hours. Oh no, we civilized persons understand life and it's every man for himself. He clicked on the police transmitter. "Divisional Sergeant Mok! The chief inspector wants a riot squad here on the double. Park just behind the fish market but keep in contact!"
"Yes sir."
Mok sighed and lit a cigarette. More barriers had been erected across the street, outside Blacs and the Victoria Aberdeen branches, and more at the Ching Prosperity Bank around the corner. His khaki uniform was ironed sharp on the creases and there were big sweat rings under his arms. He was very concerned. This crowd was very dangerous and he did not want a repetition of yesterday. If the bank shut its doors before three he was sure the crowd would tear the place apart. He knew that if he still had any money in there, he would be the first to tear the door open to get his money. Ayeeyah, he thought, very thankful for the Snake's authority that had unlocked all their money this morning to the last penny.
"Piss on all banks!" Mok muttered to no one. "All gods, let the Ho-Pak pay all customers today! Let it fail tomorrow! Tomorrow's my day off so let it fail tomorrow." He stubbed out his cigarette.
"Sergeant Major?"
"Yes?"
"Look over there!" the eager young plainclothes detective said, hurrying up to him. He wore spectacles and was in his early twenties. "By the Victoria Bank. The old woman. The old amah. "
"Where? Oh yes, I see her." Mok watched her for a while but detected nothing untoward. Then he saw her scuttle through the crowd and whisper to a young tough, wearing jeans, who was leaning against a railing. She pointed to an old man who had just come out of the bank. At once the young tough sauntered after him and the old amah squeezed and squirmed and cursed her way back to the head of the barrier where she could see those who entered and those who came out.
"That's the third time, sir," the young detective said. "The old amah points out someone who's just come out of the bank to the tough, then off he goes. In a few minutes he comes back again. That's the third time. I'm sure I saw him slip her something once. I think it was money."
"Good! Very good, Spectacles Wu. It's bound to be a triad shakedown. The old hag's probably his mother. You follow the young bastard and I'll intercept him the other way. Keep out of sight!"
Divisional Sergeant Mok slipped around the corner, down a busy alley lined with stalls and street hawkers and open shops, moving carefully through the crowds. He turned into another alley just in time to catch a glimpse of some money being passed over by the old man. He waited until Wu had blocked the other end of the alley, then he walked ponderously forward.
"What's going on here?"
"What? Eh? Nothing, nothing at all," the old man said nervously, sweat running down his face. "What's the matter? I've done noth-ing!"
"Why did you give this young man money, heya? I saw you give him money!" The young thug stared back at Mok insolently, unafraid, knowing he was Smallpox Kin, one of the Werewolves who had all Hong Kong petrified. "Is he accosting you? Trying to squeeze you? He looks like a triad!"
"Oh! I … I … I owed him 500 dollars. I've just got it out of the bank and I paid him." The old man was clearly terrified but he blustered on, "He's my cousin." A crowd began to collect. Someone hawked and spat.
"Why're you sweating so much?"
"All gods fornicate all pigs! It's hot! Everyone's sweating. Everyone!"
"That's fornicating right," someone called out.
Mok turned his attention on the youth who waited truculently. "What's your name?"
"Sixth Son Wong!"
"Liar! Turn out your pockets!"
"Me, I've done nothing! I know the law. You can't search people without a warran—"
Mok's iron fist snapped out and twisted the youth's arm and he squealed. The crowd laughed. They fell silent as Spectacles Wu came out of nowhere to search him. Mok held Smallpox Kin in a vise. Another uneasy undercurrent swept through the onlookers as they saw the rolls of money, and change. "Where'd you get all this?" Mok snarled.
"It's mine. I'm . . . I'm a moneylender and I'm collecting forn—"
"Where's your place of business?"
"It's . . . it's in Third Alley, off Aberdeen Road."
"Come on, we'll go and look."
Mok released the young man who, unafraid, still stared back angrily. "First give me my money!" He turned to the crowd and appealed to them. "You saw him take it! I'm an honest moneylender! These're servants of the foreign devils and you all know them! Foreign devil law forbids honest citizens being searched!"
"Give him back his fornicating money!" someone shouted.
"If he's a moneylender …"
The crowd began to argue back and forth and then Smallpox Kin saw a small opening in the crowd and he darted for it. The crowd let him pass and he fled up the alley, vanishing into the traffic, but when Spectacles Wu charged in pursuit they closed up and jostled him and became a little uglier. Mok called him back. In the momentary melee the old man had disappeared. Wearily Mok said, "Let the motherless turd go! He was just a triad—another triad turd who preys on law-abiding people."
"What1 re you going to do with his fornicating money?" someone called out from the back of the crowd.
"I'm going to give it to an old woman's rest home," Mok shouted back equally rudely. "Go defecate in your grandmother's ear!"
Someone laughed and the crowd began to break up and then they all went about their business. In a moment Mok and Spectacles Wu were standing like stones in a river, the passersby eddying around them. Once back on the main street, Mok wiped his brow. "Dew neh loh moh!"
"Yes. Why're they like that, Sergeant Major?" the young detective asked. "We're only trying to help them. Why didn't the old man just admit that triad bastard was squeezing him?"
"You don't learn about mobs of people in schoolbooks," Mok said kindly, knowing the anxiety of the youth to succeed. Spectacles Wu was new, one of the recent university graduates to join the force. He was not one of Mok's private unit. "Be patient. Neither of them wanted anything to do with us because we're police and they all still believe we'll never help them, only ourselves. It's been the same in China since the first policeman."