Rebecca Hagan Lee (29 page)

Chapter Thirty-two

“The wise stand not in the way of lovers, but let nature take its course.”

—ANONYMOUS

Z
hing followed Julie’s instructions. She waited until Julie was out of sight, then made her way from the Silken Angel Saloon to the Craig Capital, Ltd., offices in the heart of the financial district—where Julie had told her Will was in a meeting—running as fast as she could.

She burst into the building shouting Will’s name: “Keegan! Keegan!”

“Here, girl, you can’t go in there!” The doorman tried to stop her, but Zhing kept going, running up and down the hallway screaming for Will.

Hearing the commotion, Will got up from the table in the conference room where he was meeting with Peter Malcolm, Jack O’Brien, Seth Hammond, and several department managers. He looked at Jack. “That sounds like Zhing.”

Stepping into the hall, he caught Zhing as she came running toward him.

“Keegan . . .” She was winded from her run through the streets. “Jie Li . . .”

Will took her by the shoulders to steady her. “What about Julie?”

“She left the Silken Angel singing ‘Bringing in the Sheaves’ in her missionary dress.”

Will thought his heart turned over in his chest. It felt as if it were pumping molasses instead of blood. “Where is she going?”

“The Lotus—” Zhing gasped.

“Blossom,” Will finished her sentence.

“Jaysus!” Jack swore.

Will looked at Peter Malcolm. “Send someone for Sergeant Terrence Darnell of the police department. Tell him James Craig recommended him. Send him to the Lotus Blossom. Jack, grab us a cab! Quick!” He hugged Zhing. “Take care of Zhing.” Will called to Malcolm as he ran toward the door, with Jack at his heels.

“I’m coming, too, sir,” Seth Hammond shouted, running to keep up. “My job is to watch your back.”

They arrived at the Lotus Blossom to find the front parlor in disarray, Madam Harpy with a broken nose and screeching bloody murder. Will barely spared her a glance as he raced through the brothel, searching every room for Julie.

But Julie wasn’t there.

He knew he was revealing himself to Li Toy, but it didn’t matter. When this was over, Madam Li Toy was going to jail for two counts of attempted murder. If anything happened to Julie, Will would make sure Li Toy met her ancestors sooner than expected. Either way, the madam was out of business.

Will was exiting the brothel when one of the girls confined there ran down the hall after him. “You look for missionary girl?”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. “Yes!”

“They take her to hospital.”

“Saint Mary’s?”

“Not white man’s hospital. China hospital.”

Will nearly fell to his knees. He’d never been inside one, but he knew what they were. There were dozens of them scattered around Chinatown. They were cellars hidden beneath buildings where madams like Li Toy sent troublesome prostitutes to die. . . .

* * *

J
ULIE DIDN’T KNOW HOW LONG SHE STAYED IN THE CELLAR
holding Su Mi in her arms. It could have been hours or days. The lamp had gone out, and she lost track of time in the blackness. She knew only that she had to stay alive. For herself. For Will. But especially for Su Mi. If she died, who would take Su Mi’s bones back to China?

Picking up Su Mi’s tin bowl, Julie began to loudly bang it against the wooden shelf beside Su Mi as she sang. . . .

* * *

“
L
ISTEN!”
W
ILL STOPPED A FEW STEPS FROM THE ENTRANCE
to Cooper’s Alley.

Jack stopped next to him. “What is it?”

“Do you hear that?” Will demanded. “Or is it my imagination?”

They had been searching for Julie for more than six hours. Every man at Craig Capital who could search was searching. Every policeman Terrence Darnell had threatened, coerced, or cornered had joined in, as well as the San Francisco office of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency and the firemen from the local firehouses.

“I hear it.” Jack grinned.

“I hear it, too,” Seth confirmed.

It was a faint but steady rendition of a husky, slightly off-key “Bringing in the Sheaves” accompanied by the beat of a tin drum.

* * *

W
ILL,
J
ACK, AND
S
ETH KICKED IN THE CELLAR DOOR.
O
NE
of the firemen handed Will a lantern. Will held it out in front of him as he crossed the threshold, illuminating a den of horrors.

Seated on the floor near a bench mounted to the wall was Julia Jane, holding a tin bowl in one hand, and the filthy body of a dead girl in her lap.

He had never seen or met Su Mi, but Will knew in his heart that Julie had found her. . . .

She looked up at Will, tears in her cornflower-blue eyes.

“Oh, my darling love, Julie.” Will knelt in the dirt beside her. “Thank God I heard you singing that hymn. I couldn’t bear to lose you. Not now. Not ever.”

“I love you. I knew you would find me,” she said simply. “I waited for you.”

* * *

T
HERE WAS LIGHT AT THE END OF THE LONG, DAMP TUNNEL.
Julie saw lamplight glowing in the fog as she followed Will and the five girls through the narrow, twisting tunnel a week after her rescue. The end of the tunnel opened onto an alley behind a warehouse where a closed carriage waited to take them to the San Francisco Ferry Building to board the ferry that would take them across the bay to the Southern Pacific pier in Oakland, where the Central Pacific Railroad terminal and a private railroad car awaited them.

Will led the way, carrying a lantern and wearing a knapsack that contained food and essentials on his back. The girls, ranging in age from eleven to sixteen, followed close behind him. The girls were a bigger surprise to Julie than the tunnel hidden in the wine cellar. Only two of them—Lan Chu and Gan Que—were Chinese. Two were Russian Jews from the same small village in the Ukraine, who had been sent by their parents as brides to young Jewish men, only to find that the arrangements had been an elaborate ruse to secure exotic prostitutes for bawdy houses in San Francisco. Julie didn’t speak Russian or the Ukrainian dialect, but both she and Will spoke French, and Irina, the eldest of the two, spoke enough French for Julie and Will to learn their stories.

Li Toy’s shipment was supposed to have been made up of Chinese girls only, but the rough ocean crossing and the horrible conditions belowdecks had cost the lives of twenty-seven girls—including three Chinese girls in Li Toy’s shipment.

The broker had foisted three non-Chinese girls off on her.

Will figured that Li Toy had sent them to the Silken Angel because she knew she could make a profit on them if she sold them to him. She knew Will wouldn’t refuse to take them. Her other customers might.

The last girl was eleven-year-old Kathleen O’Flaherty, the blond-haired, blue-eyed, freckle-faced orphaned daughter of an Irish miner killed in a brawl. Kathleen had been placed in a workhouse, then given as a maid to the owner of a whorehouse in Sacramento before being sold to Li Toy. And like Julie, she was sporting a black eye and a battered face.

Julie brought up the rear of the little group as they trudged single-file through the tunnel. Just when she thought they would never reach the end, she was suddenly there, standing across the street from an empty gin warehouse, looking at the carriage. Julie tripped and would have fallen, but Will was beside her. He took hold of her arm and steadied her. “Are you all right?”

She stepped into the open and saw the lanterns hanging from the closed carriage. “I am now,” she admitted. “You’re here and we’re out of that tunnel. I don’t like confined spaces.”

After what happened in the cellar with Su Mi, who could blame her? Will looked at her in the lamplight. She was pale and trembling, her eyes wide with fright. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know we were going into a tunnel until we went into the wine cellar, and then it was too late,” she told him.

“You could have told me.” Reaching over, Will caressed her face. “I would have understood.”

She took a deep breath. “You would have left me behind.” She met his gaze. “And I couldn’t have that.”

“So you did something that frightened you instead.”

“I wasn’t frightened,” she denied. “I was merely concerned.”

Will grinned. “No need to be concerned any longer. You’re safe.” He ushered her into the carriage with the girls. “We’re halfway there.”

The carriage took them three blocks to the Ferry Building. At that time of morning, the building and the ferry were all but deserted. Will had paid for a private cabin on the ferry for the trip across the bay so Julie and the girls could ride in comfort.

He tried to sell Julie on the idea that she and the girls needed their rest as much as the privacy, but she knew he was worried about her. He’d been watching her like a hawk since he’d found her in the cellar with Su Mi.

Julie was in mourning and, following Chinese tradition, would remain in mourning for a minimum of one hundred days, and she couldn’t seem to focus on anything beyond the next three months except helping Will rescue other victims. Su Mi. The memory of her emaciated body hurt more than both the stab wounds she’d suffered. Beautiful, perfect Su Mi reduced to skin and bones.

They had given her a first-class traditional Chinese funeral. She had been buried in a white cheongsam, with a yellow cloth over her face and a light blue one over her body. They had scattered ivory-colored papers punched full of holes during the funeral procession, since the Chinese believed the evil spirits must journey through each opening, keeping them occupied and confused; burned joss sticks; scattered ivory-colored paper called spirit money for the departed to use as currency in the afterlife; and had hired a Chinese band to help distract malevolent spirits.

Su Mi’s temporary resting place was in the Chinese cemetery in the town of Colma, outside San Francisco proper. The voyage home to China took a minimum of three weeks, and since the Chinese did not embalm bodies, the dead were buried in temporary plots long enough for the flesh and muscle to fall off the bones so the bones could be interred in urns and repatriated to their homeland. When Julie returned to Hong Kong, Su Mi’s bones would go with her.

Julie sighed. Taking Su Mi home to Hong Kong would not give her the justice she deserved. Madam Harpy had escaped punishment for Su Mi’s murder and the attempted murder of Julie and Will. And while she had the local police in her pocket, she knew Will Keegan would not rest until she was punished. She had slipped out of the Lotus Blossom in the dead of night. She’d boarded a ship bound for China to escape retribution for her sins and would retire from the flesh trade as a very wealthy woman.

“What’s next?” Julie whispered, leaning close to Will as they sat in the cabin, safe from any prying eyes, sipping cups of tea he had bought from the vendor in the ferry’s dining salon.

“When we arrive in Oakland, we’ll board a private railcar at the Central Pacific Railroad, and an hour or so later we’ll arrive at our destination.”

“Are you going to tell me where that is?” she asked.

He smiled his mischievous smile. “You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

She glanced at the girls. Julie had spent the first few minutes of the ferry ride trying to assure them that she and Will weren’t taking them to work in another brothel. The Chinese girls were quiet and docile. They didn’t offer any protests or comments on anything Will or Julie asked them to do, and had promptly leaned against their seats and closed their eyes. The Russian girls, Irina and Chava, were nearly as cooperative as the Chinese. After spending several weeks at sea with sailors who were encouraged to break them in for their lives as prostitutes, and several days in the Nightingale Song, they had no hopes left of making proper marriages with nice Jewish men. The best they could hope was a bawdy house where the mistress didn’t starve or beat them, and where Chava wouldn’t have to hide and Irina wouldn’t have to accept every man who bought a token.

Eleven-year-old Kathleen was the sole exception. She’d been quiet and subdued during the trip through the tunnel, but she’d chattered nonstop since then. For Kathleen, everything was an adventure. “Isn’t this exciting, miss?” She had to be tired, but she was practically bouncing in her seat. “I’ve never been in a tunnel before, although my da used to go down in the mines every day. After me mum died, it was just Da and me. . . .” Unshed tears sparkled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Then Da got stabbed in a brawl in Welsh Charlie’s bar. . . .” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “There was no one to take me, so the county put me in the workhouse. I worked hard there, miss. They rented us out to the fine people in town who needed scullery maids and kitchen helpers and such.” Kathleen took a drink from her mug of tea and looked up at Will. “This is ever so good, Will. Thank you. Until I came to your place I hadn’t had tea with honey in it in a long time. Not since before Da. I’ve never ridden a ferryboat before. It’s grand.” Her stomach growled loudly.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a proper meal?” Julie asked, charmed by the little girl who refused to let the circumstances of her life dampen her spirit.