The Mark of the Golden Dragon (26 page)

More giggles, then she says, "It is a very popular performance and she is very good at it with dramatic gestures and all."

I can just imagine, Rebecca, you little ham.

"And it is attended not only by the youngers, but also some of the older girls, them that wasn't on the
Bloodhound
cruise."

Hmmm...

"Well, I'm glad I was a source of amusement," I say, not very glad at all.

"Oh, Jacky." She chuckles, giving me a poke. "You cannot possibly know what a badge of honor it is at the school to have been one of the Original
Bloodhound
Thirty! And, oh, how I wish I could have been along on that journey!"

"No, you don't, you little fool. It only seems glorious and romantic 'cause everything worked out all right and we all got back safe. If things had gone differently, I'd be in some awful sultan's harem right now and you'd still be in the streets, bound for a life of shame and degradation."

"Don't be so sure of that, Jacky. You don't know me all that well," she says, her breath warm on the back of my neck. "Besides, bein' in a sultan's harem don't sound so bad, eatin' grapes and them pomy-gran-ates."

"It's what else you've got to do in return for those grapes and pomegranates that's the problem, Miss," I reply. "Being a slave in any of its forms ain't no fun, believe me, girl, no matter how pleasant it might seem, 'cause I know."

"Aye. I've been pumpin' Ravi about you and that Cheng Shih, I have, but he won't say much. He only gives out with winks and giggles about his 'wicked, wicked Missy Memsahib.'"

Joannie gives me another poke in the ribs. "One of these days you'll tell me what went on between you and her, you bad thing, you."

"One of these days, young one, you shall hear of it, although you should not concern yourself with the actions of your betters. Right now, though, let us go to sleep."

That was last night. This is today. Joannie, dressed again in her sailor gear, sits anxiously at my side, her belly full of Mr. Lee Chi's fine breakfast, ready to tell her tale.

Let her fidget,
I'm thinking.
Let's hear from Higgins first.

"Mr. Higgins," I say, tossing in yet another bit of buttered toast. "I trust you had an interesting day?"

"Indeed, Miss, the good Dr. Sebastian was able to set up a clandestine meeting with the Doctor, Mr. Peel, former head of Naval Intelligence, and myself, of course, at his club. It was a most agreeable place, well appointed and exquisitely furnished. The service was impeccable, I might add..."

Get to it, Higgins.

"...and another meeting has been set up for tomorrow morning at the same place, to discuss the possible donation of great treasure to the British Museum ... that and the subsequent advancement of Mr. Peel's rather stalled career. He is most interested, I might add."

"As well he should be," I retort. "Does he know I am involved?"

"Not yet, but as I've said, he might have his suspicions. He is a very intelligent man, and seeing both Dr. Sebastian and myself together, he might well draw his conclusions."

"Ummm. All right. That is all to the good," I say, putting napkin to lips. "Now, you have already heard of our visit to the Blackthorne Inn yesterday. So let us now hear from our street representative, Miss Nichols."

Joannie pops up straight in her chair and begins.

"Me and the Shankies have found that this 'ere bloke 'Arry Flashby—"

"Speak correctly, dear," I say, hearing the rush of her words. "There's plenty of time."

"This man, Harry Flashby, has taken rooms somewhere north of Cheapside. We do not know just where—right now, anyway—but we do have scouts out searchin'," she says, looking sly. "And we are certain of one thing. Flashby is afraid to come out of his rooms till the Black Highwayman is taken. Until then, he contents himself with fine feasts and ... with carefully chosen ... er, um ... female company."

Ah ... ever the lusty one, eh, Flashby? We'll see about that.

"We also know who gets these girls for him," she continues. "He's a pimp named Benjamin Crespo, otherwise known as Benny the Creepo. He goes through the whorehouses and chooses those girls he thinks Flashby would like. It's said that he selects the more exotic types: Negroes, mulattos, Creole, French, Spanish, and the like. And it's all done very secretly, too. The girls are taken by coach in dark of night and are blindfolded on the way there and back so they won't be able to tell where his hidey-hole is."

"Where can this Benny the Creepo be found?"

"Usually at a brothel called Mrs. Featherstone's. It's on Ludgate."

"Well, then, we'll have to pay that fine establishment a visit then, shan't we?" I say, rising. "Ravi, go get Mr. Lee and have him bring his razor. My head needs a bit of a touchup. Oh, and get your turban ... and your curly-toed slippers, too, as you will be going with me. Joannie, into your sailor-boy gear..."

"Aye, aye, Sir!" she chirps, diving for her seabag.

"...and Higgins, if you would be so kind as to continue your inquiries? Good. Davy and Tink, to the taverns to pick up what you can. We must know when the Highwayman resumes operations. All set? Then, let's do it."

The coach pulls up in front of Mrs. Featherstone's Fine Emporium and I wait for the coachman to open my door to hand me out.

"Joannie, you stay here, out of sight. Ravi, you will pick up the back hem of my garment and follow me in. Got it? Good."

The door opens and we get out in all our splendor.

Ravi has on his white turban with the ruby in the center of it, and loose white trousers gathered at the waist and ankles. His brown chest is bare and his feet are encased in golden silk shoes with upturned toes.

I have my green and gold sarong wrapped about my hips and chest, leaving my midriff naked except for the emerald that sits in my bellybutton. Silk slippers are on my feet, as well, with my light silk cloak wrapped around all.

The well-tipped and eager-to-please coachman bounds up the steps and opens the door for me, and we enter, me first, with Ravi behind, holding up my silken train.

Surprised female eyes look up at us as we sweep into the foyer. The ladies are in various stages of undress, with much black lace and brightly feathered boas in evidence.

"I am the Lotus Blossom and I am here to see a Meester Creespo. You are to go geet heem, pleez."

One of the girls gets up and darts out of the room. Presently Benny the Creepo enters the room, an inquiring look on his face.

He is small, round of belly, and bald of head. On me, baldness looks good, but on him it does not. He affects a greasy mustache and beard, and he is dressed in a garish, foppish fashion. A smirk creeps over Crespo's full, purplish lips.

"What have we here?" he asks.

"I am called Lotus Blossom," I purr, letting the cloak slip from my head and shoulders to stand before him in all my Eastern finery. If this ain't exotic, I don't know what is. His eyebrows go up in appreciation.

"And I hear that you make assignations of a certain sort for gentlemen of very refined tastes," I continue, turning myself about slowly so that he might appreciate all my charms. I make sure that my braid is brushed to the side so that he might view my Golden Dragon tattoo. "Ess thees true?"

"Might be," he says. "What have you got to offer?"

"What I have to offer is a youth spent in the Willow World of the East studying the sensual arts," I softly say, looking up through my kohl-rimmed eyes."I know ... theengs ... techniques ... your gentlemen have never heard of. I know they will be delighted and will reward you handsomely for bringing me to them."

"All, right, dearie," he says, rubbing his hands together and looking me over most avidly. "Let's just step back into my room and see what you've got."

I throw on a look of supreme contempt. "One such as Lotus Blossom is not for one such as you." I snap my fingers and Ravi scoops up my fallen cloak and drapes it about me again. "She is for
finest
of gentlemen. I shall send my slave around tomorrow to see what you have arranged. Oh, and yes, the price is fifty pounds, not a penny less. Goodbye."

With that I sweep back out, leaving an astonished Benjamin Crespo behind me.

"Driver, pull down the street a bit and wait," I order, as Ravi and I climb back in. He does it and we sit and wait.

We do not linger long. In a few minutes Benny the Creepo comes out and hurries down the street.

"All right, Joannie, go!"

Joannie, now Johnny Nichols, sailor boy, leaps out of the cab and follows the pimp down the lane. I see her make a signal wave, and up on the rooftops I see figures outlined against the sky, making the thumbs-up sign.

Our little pimp is going to have an avid following.

The next morning, I receive several messages.

The first one is from Dr. Sebastian, reaffirming our appointment for a meeting at one o'clock with Mr. Peel at his club on Bishops Gate. Both Higgins and I will attend.

The second is from Richard Allen:

Princess—

Please forgive my not delivering this note in person as I am detained on military matters. Do please honor me with your presence tonight at the Cockpit. A coach will be sent for you at six. I promise you a good time.

Oh, yes ... Please invite John Higgins to join us as there will be a person in attendance tonight whom I think it would be advantageous for both you and our worthy Higgins to meet.

Cheers,

Richard

I fold each note and put them both aside on my breakfast table. I take another sip of coffee.
Mmm.
Ah, yes, Mr. Lee Chi has finally mastered the art of making a more than acceptable brew.

Joannie Nichols is beside me, tucking into her own hearty breakfast and bringing me up to date on her investigative missions through the rough neighborhoods of Cheapside.

"We followed Crespo halfway 'cross London, but after a bit he pulled up on Chiswell Street, where it seems our Mr. Flashby has his hideout. He's got rooms on the top floor, four stories up. His window faces an alley and there ain't no drainpipes or anything like that to climb up on, so we'll have to come down over the top on ropes tied to the chimneys."

"Good work," I say. "Here, try this orange marmalade. What else?"

"That's about it."

"Well, tomorrow night you and I shall go up to case it out further."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes. Busy today," I say, putting away another tasty little biscuit. "And tonight the mysterious and exotic Lotus Blossom dines with the very handsome and gallant Lord Richard Allen," I announce with a broad wink at my very able sidekick.

Mr. Peel's club is very well appointed, what I have seen of it, anyway. Women, of course, are not allowed into the inner sanctums of the place—not even wives. But there is a nice reception room, furnished in red leather and dark wood paneling, and it is to that spot that Higgins and I are led.

As we are made comfortable by a liveried butler, Dr. Sebastian and Mr. Peel enter the room. I am dressed somewhat more modestly than usual—brunette wig, black Lawson Peabody School dress, with my black mantilla over my head.

Higgins rises and shakes hands, while I remain seated. I slip the black lace from my hair and gaze up at Mr. Peel, the former head of Naval Intelligence, the man who had sent me on various dangerous assignments in both France and the Caribbean, without too much concern for my safety ... or my virtue.

I offer up my hand and he takes it. At that, I rise and make a small curtsy.

"So good to see you again, Sir."

He does not register much surprise.

"Ah, Miss Faber," he says with a slight bow. "I suspected you were somehow involved in all this. Please, do be seated and let us talk about the ... situation as Dr. Sebastian has outlined it to me."

The conversation then turns to the task at hand.

"It all boils down to this, Sir," I say. "I have a great treasure to give to the British Museum." Here I withdraw the pendant made of a gold Roman coin, bearing the image of Augustus Caesar, and hand it to Peel.

"Very nice," he says. "And what will you want in return?"

"The thanks of the British people would be too much to ask for, I suppose. So I merely request a full pardon for myself and for Lieutenant James Fletcher."

"Hmm. So where is this treasure?"

"In a very safe spot, you may be assured, Sir," I murmur. "And I have already made the acquaintance of the Duke of Clarence and have enlisted his help in this matter."

That
gets a response from the man. He looks sharply at Higgins.

"The King's son?" he asks of him, his eyebrows raised.

"She does stay busy, Sir," says Higgins.