Part 24 (1/2)

Lydia stood and stared in horror at Mr Liu's shop front. At where it had been. It was now a naked gaping hole. Everything was smashed into thousands of pieces; his gla.s.s window, his red latticework, his printed signs and scrolls, even the door and its frame lay twisted on the ground. The shops of the candlemaker and the charm seller on each side of it were untouched, open for business as usual, so whatever or whoever had done this had aimed it just at him. At Mr Liu. She stepped inside what was left of the p.a.w.nbroker's, but it was no longer dark and secretive. Sunlight strode in, exposed the packed shelves to any pa.s.sing gaze, and Lydia felt a sharp tug of sympathy for the place. She knew the value of secrets. In the centre of the room Mr Liu sat still as stone on one of his bamboo stools, while across his knees lay the long blade of the Boxer sword that used to hang on the wall. There was blood on it.

'Mr Liu,' she said softly, 'what happened?'

He raised his eyes to her face, and they were older, much older. 'Greetings to you, Missy.' His voice was like a faint scratching on a door. 'I apologise that I am not open for business today.'

'Tell me what happened here?'

'The devils came. They wanted more than I could give.'

Around his feet the jewellery display cases were crushed and empty. Lydia felt a lurch of alarm. The shelves didn't look as if they had been touched, but the really valuable stuff was gone.

'Who are these devils, Mr Liu?'

He shrugged his thin shoulders and shut his eyes. The world blocked out. She wondered what inner spirits he was calling on. But what she couldn't understand was why nothing was being done to clear up the mess, so she went over to where the inlaid screen used to stand, now trampled into the floor, and set his kettle on the little stove at the back. She made them both a cup of jasmine tea on a tray and carried it over to him and his sword. His eyes were still closed.

'Mr Liu, something to cool your blood.'

A faint flicker of a smile moved his lips and he opened his eyes.

'Thank you, Missy. You are generous, and respectful to an old man.'

Only then did she realise the oiled queue that used to hang down his back had been chopped off and was lying on the floor, and his long tufty beard had been hacked back to grey stubble. The indignity of such an act overwhelmed her for a moment. Worse than the attack on the shop. Far, far worse.

She pulled up the other stool and sat down on it. 'Why doesn't anybody come to help?' People were pa.s.sing in full view of them, but their faces looked the other way.

'They are afraid,' he said and sipped the scalding liquid with indifference. 'I cannot blame them.'

Lydia stared at the sword, at the blood turning brown. The attack must have happened only shortly before she arrived because part of it still glistened on the blade.

'Who are these devils?'

A long silence settled in the shop alongside the dust and the shattered gla.s.s while Mr Liu started to breathe deeply in and out, long and slow.

'You don't want to know such things,' he said at last.

'I do.'

'Then you are a fool, Missy.'

'Was it the Communists? They need money for guns, I hear.'

He turned his black eyes on her, surprised. 'No, it was not the Communists. Where does a foreigner such as you hear of those people?'

'Oh, around. Word spreads.'

His eyes were sharp. 'Take care, Missy. China is not a place like others. Here different rules apply.'

'So who are the devils who make up the rules that say they can destroy your shop and take your money? Where are the police? Why don't they . . . ?'

'No police. They will not come.'

'Why not?'

'Because they are paid not to come.'

Lydia felt cold, despite the tea. Mr Liu was right; this was not her world. Chinese police were not like Commissioner Lac.o.c.k. The chief of police in the International Settlement, whom she had loathed so pa.s.sionately only a couple of hours ago, suddenly appeared to be a reasonable and honourable figure. Respected and rea.s.suring. She wanted his monocle and his authoritative voice to storm up here and sort out this mess. But this was not in his jurisdiction. This was Chinese Junchow. She sat in silence. Nothing was said for so long that it came as a slight shock when Mr Liu lifted up the sword in one hand, pointing it straight out in front of him, and said, 'I cut one.'

'Badly?'

'Bad enough.'

'Where?'

'I sliced the tattoo off his neck.' He said it with quiet pride.

'Tattoo? What kind of tattoo?'

'What is it to you?'

'Was it a snake? A black snake?'

'Maybe.'

But she knew she was right. 'I've seen one.'

'Then look away or the black snake will bite out your heart.'

'It's a gang, isn't it? One of the triads. I've heard about these brotherhoods that extort money from . . .'

He held a hooked finger to his lips. 'Don't even speak of them. Not if you want to keep your pretty eyes.'

She slowly placed her tiny cup on the enamelled tray on the floor. She didn't want him to see her face. He had frightened her.

'What will you do?' she asked.

He brought the sword cras.h.i.+ng down onto the tray, slicing it neatly in half and making Lydia leap to her feet.

'I will pay them,' he said in a whisper. 'I will find the dollars somewhere and pay them. It is the only way to put food on my family's table. This was just a warning.'

'Can I help you sweep up the gla.s.s and . . . ?'

'No.' It was harsh the way he said it, as if she'd offered to chop off his feet. 'No. But thank you, Missy.'

She nodded. But did not leave.