The Code War (23 page)

'Well her family got into the silk
trade, then the spice trade, then the gold business, then property.
They even built some churches. Hec, there wasn't much they didn't
do. I won't bore you with the details of how they survived Terrible
Ivan and some other not-so-fine examples of human leadership but by
the time the 19th century come around one branch of the family had
gotten into the Russian navy. Three different generations of this
family served the czar from fightin' Napoleon in the Med to
blockadin' the British in the Black Sea.' Here a nod to Agatha,
acknowledging her patriotic loyalties during her time in the
Fourth.

'
But the
one ancestor we're interested in is Alexander Shafner. Shafner was
an adventurous young naval officer who was sent to northern
Manchuria in 1860. The Chinese government was reeling from the
Taiping Rebellion, a massive civil war, and had just agreed to hand
this area over to Russia. Shafner was given command of a 28-gun,
two-masted navy sloop, unsurprisingly named the Manchur. It had a
crew of a hundred fifty sailors and eighty marines. He sailed his
ship into an almost unknown bay along the coast, weighed anchor and
promptly founded the city that became Vladivostok. As if that
wasn't enough already for a young wandering Jew far from home, here
is where the tale gets really interesting.'

Ruth paused and poured herself another
cup of tea then added milk and sugar and procured herself another
biscuit. The others, leaning forward in their seats and listening
intently to her story, followed suit and topped up their
drinks.

Ruth continued. 'A beautiful
Chinese princess, on the run from enemies made by her family during
the civil war, hears about Shafner's expedition and turns up in
Vladivostok. By now, the settlement has just a few buildings and a
horse stable so it really is the edge of never. The princess's name
is Mya Ling. Mya is certainly beautiful but she's also poor having
lost all her riches and most of her clothes to bandits. However,
she is manipulative, ambitious and extremely single-minded.
Shafner's heart is taken by her. Well, why wouldn't it be? There he
is in the back of beyond with only his crew for company and no
elegant soirees or parties to go to when along comes this seductive
oriental female who dresses up in all her remaining silk finery and
starts to flash her eyes at him. She was like the sudden appearance
of an oil painting in a very bleak landscape. Anyway, Shafner takes
Mya onto his ship, they have a whirlwind romance and decide to get
married. As you can guess, Mya is driving all this along. Shafner
thinks he's in control but really Mya Ling is calling the shots.
She's intending to carve out a rich life for herself. Shafner is
her escape from the desolation of war-torn China to the decadence
of Moscow society. She's like the Chinese calligrapher making an
awesome painting and Shafner is the brush in her hand. He starts to
make a lot of colour but she's the one pushing him around the
canvas. Now I'm going to give you a first sight of Shafner and Mya
Ling by showing you a scene from the day they met. Are you ready to
see it?'

'Absolutely.' 'Of course.' 'Do it.' The
three shouted.

Ruth smiled proudly and held her
hand up high over her head. 'Then make a space and let the show
begin.' Jabez and Luke shuffled their bean bags back as far as they
could without actually leaving their globes. Ruth let fall her hand
and in the space between the four of them a shimmer of lights and
colours began to appear and slowly arranged themselves.

The four angels found themselves inside
the wardroom of a mid-19th century wooden warship. A polished table
surrounded by six solid oak chairs with leather inlays was in the
centre. Around the walls were a drinks cabinet and a side table. A
large window comprising four panels of six smaller glass panes was
obviously the stern while along the walls were a number of charts
and maps. A portrait of Czar Alexander II in military uniform
wearing a blue sash and sporting long sideburns occupied the centre
of one wall.

The angels were seeing the
wardroom from different angles as if the action was really taking
place in their midst. They had seen historic scenes like this
before, of course, even some truly ancient ones. But it was still a
delight to be taken so intimately into an intriguing human
environment, especially one like this that was positively simmering
with significance. As they accustomed themselves to the furnishings
and lighting in the room, a door opened. In came a young man in
grey naval officer's uniform, clearly Shafner. He turned with a
bow, beckoning behind him and was followed by a diminutive and most
exquisite young Chinese woman wearing a startling blue silk cheung
sam. She looked around her, taking in her surroundings before
looking up shyly at Shafner.

'Ver' nice,' she said in highly accented
English, dipping her head slightly as she spoke. She folded her
arms across her waist and waited for Shafner to make the next
move.

'To sit please,' said Shafner in his own
Russian-accented English, drawing back the least-scratched chair
and motioning for her to take it.

She did so and sat, straight-backed and
stiff, replacing her hands across her middle. A sailor came to the
door and asked Shafner if he needed an interpreter. They spoke in
Russian which the angels understood perfectly as they understood
all languages. Shafner replied that he needed no such help and the
sailor departed and closed the door.

The conversation then began in rather
stilted fashion.

'You like drink something?'

'Thank you no.'

'You like eat something?'

'Thank you no.'

'You like look through telescope?'

'Thank you no.'

A pause.

'You are very beautiful.'

'Thank you yes.'

'You are from Peking?'

'Canton, thank you. I Canton woman. Most
happy to be Canton woman.' Then Mya Ling giggled and even to the
watching angels it was a delightful sound after the initial stiff
formality. To Shafner her laughter must have been like summer rain.
Sunshine poured in through the windows, lighting up Mya Ling's
delicate features and the silken blues of her long dress.

'You laugh why?'

'I not know. Here ver' nice. You
polite man.' Another giggle and Mya Ling raised her hand to cover
her mouth. 'I not ver' polite. I sorry. You ver' kind. Perhaps I
see your boat now, learn how you drive and sail it?'

And as Shafner rose to give Mya Ling an
escorted tour of his ship it was clear that he was already smitten.
Mya Ling took his proffered arm and flashed her perfect brown eyes
at him once more before they left the wardroom.

The sharpness of the picture faded into
shimmers and then dissolved into nothingness.

'That's all I wanted to show you,' said
Ruth. 'Intriguing is it not?'

'So this woman, Mya Ling,' began Jabez
'is Nancy's ancestor?'

'That's right. Shafner takes her
back to Moscow where she is eventually accepted into Russian
society. Shafner's Jewish relatives are more reserved of course and
initially tell him to divorce her. However Mya Ling's beauty and
especially her ready wit, once she learns Russian which she does
exceptionally quickly, soon have them eating out of her hand. Added
to this, Mya Ling exploits all her new Jewish connections to the
full. She begins importing Chinese antiques, furniture, silks and
other goods to Moscow and selling them to wealthy Muscovites. But
here's a funny thing. There are already many merchants in Moscow
involved in selling 'chinoiserie' as they called it. Mya Ling is
entering a crowded market with her imports. But one by one all the
other merchants run out of stock. They can't get supplies. It seems
that their Chinese suppliers, who were all exporting through Hong
Kong which is by now British and is the most stable and peaceful of
China's deep sea ports, keep dying or falling ill in mysterious
circumstances. Mya Ling's Moscow emporium becomes a virtual
monopoly. She becomes rich and powerful. Shafner married well.
Their two children, a boy and a girl, are raised as Jews and fully
integrated into Russian Jewish society. That's the line that Nancy
springs from. Including Mya Ling herself, Nancy is the fifth
generation!'

'That's superb research, Ruth, but do we
know anything more about these mysterious deaths in Hong Kong?'

'I believe I may be able to throw some
light on that, Luke,' interjected Agatha. 'Ruth, can you replay the
scene?'

They watched again as Shafner and Mya
Ling came into the ship's wardroom and delicately courted each
other. But when Mya Ling giggled and put her hand to her mouth
Agatha shouted 'stop here.'

She pointed to Mya Ling's lower arm,
which had lain hidden under her sleeve until the material was
pulled back as she raised her hand. 'You can't see this from where
you're sitting but I can. Ruth, can you turn the image so everyone
can see?'

'I think so,' replied Ruth. 'I'm not
great with these controls.'

She raised her arm and the wardroom
tottered and swung drunkenly until Ruth mastered the technology.
After a moment the wardroom and everything in it levelled again and
then slowly revolved at Ruth's direction so that all the angels
could see from Agatha's vantage point.

'Look there,' she exclaimed. 'Can
you see a symbol tattooed onto Mya Ling's wrist? It's the Chinese
character 'hung' which means 'red'. The 'hung' character also
symbolises the three-cornered relationship between heaven, earth
and man. It's the symbol which was adopted as the motif of the
mutual-help brotherhoods which became the Chinese triad societies.
Don't you see? At the time when Mya Ling met Shafner on board the
Manchur, she was already a triad member. She may have the poise and
manners of a well brought up princess but in fact Mya was a
fully-enrolled member of a criminal triad fraternity. Many of these
had no problem using murder to further their aims. She may have
joined the triads as a way of surviving the war when her family
lost their money. But how and why she joined doesn't matter now. If
she re-forged and built up her triad connections in furtherance of
her business ambitions after her move to Moscow, it may help
explain why her commercial competitors kept disappearing. And
remember what Ruth has just told us: this Mya Ling is Nancy's great
great grandmother!'

Southern Senegal, West
Africa.

There must be a way to save the children
too, Nancy told herself. They were so quiet, too quiet for kids.
They must be absolutely petrified. As if to confirm her thoughts
Nancy heard a whimper emanating from the covered vehicle. Another
voice whispered 'shhh' in gentle tones.

Lafi butted in. 'The border is only a
mile away now. We have work to do first. Come,' he ordered.

He led her to the side of the
truck where he opened a wooden box fitted under the chassis. The
side of the box swung down on a hinge revealing its contents. 'Take
that cloth.'

Nancy stooped down and looked
inside the box. She could see a large section of folded cloth as
well as some smaller pieces of material and bits of shiny plastic.
As she removed the large cloth, Lafi went to the cab and removed
the keys from the ignition.

He returned to her as she stood up
unfolding the cloth. 'Give me your hand,' he ordered curtly. As she
held out her arm Lafi took it and abruptly slapped a handcuff onto
her wrist and clasped it shut. He then locked the other cuff
through one of the ringlets in the canvas cover. 'Just for a
minute,' he snapped.

Lafi took the large section of
cloth and opened it up to its full rectangular expanse, about
twenty feet by ten feet. In the moonlight Nancy could see the large
letters 'UN' written at either end with the words 'Emergency
Humanitarian Supplies' beneath. He walked to the other side of the
truck and she could hear thumps as he climbed up the side of the
vehicle. The sound of fabric slipping across fabric followed and
the next moment half of the piece of cloth appeared over the top of
the truck and fell down on Nancy's side. While she waited for Lafi
to return she stooped and took out the smaller materials from the
box. These turned out to be tabards emblazoned with the words 'UN
Relief Worker' as well as an inflatable plastic ring bearing the
letters UNHCR and various other pieces of UN-labelled gear. Two
minutes later Lafi re-appeared and grasped the two tapes at the
corners of the cloth on Nancy's side. He secured these to the
ringlets on the lorry's canvas and then unlocked her
cuffs.

'Wear this,' he indicated one of
the tabards curtly. Nancy donned one of the bib-like garments and
Lafi put on the other. He then went to the back of the truck and
spoke in dialect to the children. His tone was gentler, more
reassuring than before and Nancy was certain he was telling them
their journey was nearly over. The rain was now teeming from the
sky and drops of water were streaming down Nancy's face. Lafi
returned and led her back to the driver's side and made sure she
was in before climbing in the passenger side. He gave her the keys
and she started the engine.

'Where are the children going? What will
happen to them?' Nancy demanded.

'I tell you the truth before,' Lafi
responded defensively. 'They go to work in the fields. Earn money
to send to their parents. This not Britain. In Africa children must
work. This is our culture. Our tradition.'

It was plausible if not entirely
convincing, Nancy thought. Though at the very least she was sure
the children did not want to leave home to work, they'd surely much
prefer to be at home in their own beds.

'Now,' he said looking forward through
the windscreen as though trying to draw a line under the
conversation. 'In one mile we meet border guards. Now you do your
job. You make sure they not search lorry. If they find you with
children, they arrest you. UN shirt will not help,' he nodded at
the logo on her tabard.