“No—no, sir. The last—I thought he was at Macao.”
Damned fool, what did he have to get killed for? Complicates everything. “Oh, by the way, your father had some documents for me. Have to have them before I leave.”
Culum searched his memory. The effort exhausted him even more. “He didn’t mention them to me, Your Excellency. I don’t know anything about them.”
“Well, I’m sure he kept them in a safe place,” Longstaff said, delighted that Culum was not privy to them. “A safe, Culum, that’s where they’d be. Where’s his private safe?”
“I—I don’t know, sir. I’ll ask Vargas.”
“Come on, Culum, pull yourself together. Life goes on. The dead must bury their dead and all that sort of thing. Mustn’t give up, what? Where’s his safe? Think! In the residence? Aboard
Resting Cloud?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then I suggest you look, and very quickly.” Longstaff’s voice sharpened. “This is of paramount importance. And keep this entirely to yourself. You understand the punishment for treason?”
“Yes—yes, of course,” Culum answered, frightened by Longstaff.
“Good. And don’t forget you’re still deputy colonial secretary and under a solemn oath to the Crown. I put the papers in your father’s hands for safekeeping. Highly secret diplomatic documents concerning a ‘friendly power.’ Maps, documents in Russian with English translations. Find them. Report back aboard the instant you have them. Report back aboard at sunset in any event. If you can’t do the job, I’ll do it myself. Oh yes, and I’ll be consigning some seeds to you. They’ll be arriving in a few days. You will redirect them to me and treat the matter with equal secrecy. Orderly!” he called out.
The door opened instantly. “Yessir!”
“Show Mr. Culum ashore!”
Culum went back to the longboat in panic. He hurried to
Resting Cloud. She was in the middle of the sampan village, almost upright. Soldiers had been posted against looters. He clambered aboard and went below.
Lim Din was standing guard with a cleaver, outside Struan’s quarters.
“Mass’er dead?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Lim Din made no reply. Nor did his expression change.
“When Tai-Pan hav paper—important paper—where putshee?” Culum asked.
“Heya?”
“Paper—put safe. Safe hav? Safe box?”
Lim Din motioned him inside and showed him the safe in the bulkhead of Struan’s bedroom. “This piece?”
“Key-ah?”
“Key-ah no hav. Tai-Pan hav, never mind.”
Where would he have the key? Culum asked himself in desperation. On him! On him, of course! I’ll have to . . . would Vargas have a duplicate? Oh God in heaven, help me. There’ll be—well, a funeral and coffin. Where do I—and . . . and what about the girl, the Chinese girl? Can she be buried with him? No, that’s not right. Does he have a family by her? Didn’t he say that he had? Where are they? In the ruins? Think, Culum! Wake up, for God’s sake! What about the ships? And money? Did he leave a will?
Forget that, that’s not important now—none of it is. You’ve got to find the secret papers. What did Longstaff say? Maps and a Russian document?
Brock walked, unnoticed, into the cabin. He saw the fear and helplessness in the youth’s face, and the bloodstains on his hands and clothes. “Morning, lad,” he said, kindly. “I comed as soon as I heared. I be sorry, lad, but doan thee fret. I be doing everything for thee.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Brock,” Culum said, his relief apparent. “It’s just that I . . .” He sat down weakly.
“Tess sayed without you, she beed deaded an’ Glessing too. It be bad joss about thy Da’, but doan thee fret. I beed to residence, lad, and I be making all arrangements proper. I ordered Orlov t’put Lion and Dragon at half-mast and I be getting
Resting Cloud afloat in no time. Thee just catch thy breath. I be lookin’ after all.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Brock. Did you see his key? I need to get—” Culum was on the point of explaining about the documents, and then he remembered what Longstaff had said about treason and he stopped himself in time. “I just thought,” he said lamely, “well, I suppose I ought to go through his papers.”
“I baint going through his pockets,” Brock said, his voice cold. “Just laid him out proper and put woman outa sight.” Ah, Dirk, he told himself, I baint never forgetting how thee looked, thee and the heathen. Together. But for thy own sake, and sake of kids, thee be buried Christian alone. “I be making arrangements for her quiet.”
“Yes, of course,” Culum said.
“We be joining, Culum. Brock’s and Struan’s. It be best for all. Noble House be Brock-Struan. I be drawing up papers immediate and all’s done.” Yus, he told himself. I baint rubbing thy joss in thy face, Dirk, but I be
the Tai-Pan now. At long last. Culum be following, if he be good enough, after Morgan and Tom. “All’s forgot twixt thee and Tess’n me, lad. Best thee go aboard
White Witch. Tess be needin’ comfort.”
“Yes. All right, Mr. Brock. Thank you. But—well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to—to go back to the residence first.”
“Be aboard come sundown.” Brock walked out.
Culum wiped his face with his hands. That’s best. Joining. That’s best. You always said you would. Get yourself together, Culum.
Go and get the key!
“Mass’er?” Lim Din beckoned him to follow, and led the way into another cabin. Mauss was lying on the floor. He was ugly in death.
“Joss. Never mind,” Lim Din said, and he laughed nervously.
Culum groped his way off the ship, his heart hurting him, and along the plank alleyways of the sampan village, and then he was near Glessing’s Point. He walked along Queen’s Road, picking his way around rubble and broken possessions, mumbling incoherent thanks to the many who came up to him offering their sympathy. There was only one thought in his shattered mind: You have to go through his pockets.
“Culum!”
Through his daze he saw Cooper, Shevaun beside him, in a group of traders near the hotel. He would have gone on, but they came up to him.
“We’ve just heard, Culum. I’m so sorry,” Cooper said. “Is there anything we can do to help? It’s terrible joss.”
“Yes,” Shevaun said, her face badly bruised and her clothes in tatters. “Terrible. We’ve just got back from Kowloon. I think it’s just awful, so unfair.”
“I—I . . . well—I’m sorry I can’t talk now. I’ve— I’ve. . .”
They watched him hurry away.
“Poor young devil,” Cooper said.
“He looks frightened out of his wits.”
“I don’t wonder. What with the Tai-Pan and Glessing.”
“Is he going to be all right? Glessing?”
“I don’t know. Hope so.” Cooper looked across the harbor. He could see the wreckage of
Boston Princess and he thanked God again for their lives. “If I were him I’d be, too.” That poor lad’s going to need all the help he can get, Cooper told himself. Thank God the Tai-Pan lived to give me the papers. I wonder if he had a premonition. No, surely not. What about Culum? What’s he going to do? He’s as helpless as a babe. Perhaps I could watch over him—I owe that to the Tai-Pan, and more. We’ve the cinchona business together now. We’ll cancel the other two directors, so it’ll just be Culum and me. Why not join forces?