Slocum and the Celestial Bones Read online

  “Oh, Mrs. Clarke, wherever has your dashing husband gone?” Sir William called. “I can’t imagine why he would allow such a lissome demoiselle as yourself to be alone for even an instant.” With that Sir William went to kiss the matron’s hand. She giggled like a debutante.

  Tess fought to keep from calling out, “Demoiselle means she’s not married.” She held her tongue, as she had on so many occasions. She was never certain how far Sir William went in his romancing of rich society matrons, but she had the gut-wrenching feeling he would go as far as necessary to enlist the women’s aid in obtaining financing from their husbands.

  She turned and almost fell. She was not used to wearing the formal high-heeled sandals and such a long, flowing skirt. Every step caused her to wobble a mite. Breathing also proved difficult due to the tightly cinched corset she did not need. Fashion. It would be the death of her yet. Tess patted her strawberry blonde hair back into place and settled herself. Dealing with the small museum staff had proven to be a chore almost as vexing as getting into the corset. They were as irritated over Sir William’s blowing in with his fine collection of jade artifacts and assuming he was in complete charge as she was of dealing with the archaeologist’s foibles. Sharing a mutual annoyance did nothing to calm the choppy waters since Tess could not openly say anything about her employer, and they could—and did.

  “Raymond,” she said when she approached the liveried doorman.

  “You don’t have to say anything more, Miss Lawrence,” he said. The glum expression told it all. “I’ve already ordered the footmen and the rest of the staff to be more civil.”

  “There is one bright spot in the evening,” Tess said.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’ll be over soon.” She reached out and touched his arm, smiled as cheerfully as she could and then returned to the large exhibition hall where Sir William had pushed the existing cases to one side and installed his own in the center. They had leased the entire museum for a full week, allowing the curator to take a much needed vacation. Tess wished she could be with him, although he had been as surly as any man she had ever met. The vast money Sir William had offered for the lease had decided the matter, she felt. The museum was out of the way for the rich and curious, nearly outside town to the south of the Mission District, and merely survived. Sir William’s exhibit had brought in more people in one night than the museum had seen in a month.

  That was the way he went through life, in command and oblivious to anything that did not concern him personally. Tess made a mental note that she ought to offer the custom-made cases Sir William had ordered to the museum for their own displays after he left on his next expedition, wherever that might take him.

  “This is a fine example of Tang Dynasty jade,” Sir William said loudly to attract attention. It worked. Tess was pushed out of the way so several of the society women could move closer to hang on his every word. “I recovered it in a dig just outside Shanghai a few months ago.”

  “Oh, it looks so marvelous,” cooed Mrs. Clarke.

  Tess wondered if lightning might strike her. This was the woman who, only minutes earlier, had thought the imperial jade looked tawdry. Mrs. Clarke showed no sign that this hypocrisy troubled her as she batted long eyelashes at Sir William. He graced her with a dazzling smile, took her flabby arm and steered her closer to the case.

  “This piece, I believe after long examination, is the crown of the Jade Emperor himself.”

  “The emperor is made of jade?”

  Sir William laughed easily. “A common misconception. The Chinese believe he is of divine origin and jade is a divine stone. This crown once rested on the emperor’s brow.”

  “How’d it come to be buried?” asked an ill-dressed man who stood with pencil poised over a folded sheet of foolscap.

  Tess sighed. She had not wanted to allow reporters into the exhibit. A private showing for them would have been more beneficial for both the museum and for focusing the attention on the jade display. As it was, the reporters would concentrate more on who was here this evening rather than why. Although Sir William had not said so, Tess thought this was why he had invited the reporters. Showing off society friends and having their names listed in a front page story might be beneficial to his fund-raising. Tess had seen notes about excavations in South America that had turned up Chinese artifacts. It was like him to go exploring in Peru and Chile for what must be a will-’o-the-wisp—one that would require a considerable bankroll.

  “You will have to wait for my soon to be published book describing my journeys throughout the Orient for that to be revealed,” Sir William said haughtily. “Let me say at this time, it was a perilous trip and one fraught with danger at every step. Finding the jade crown was less of a chore than escaping with it. I was bedeviled by Chinese brigands at every step, yes, every step.”

  “I thought you were on a boat,” the reporter said, looking confused.

  “I was. That is a manner of speaking. A metaphor, as it were. Now, ladies and gentleman, in this case are a variety of jade combs and buttons.” Sir William took Mrs. Clarke’s arm to keep her from getting away and led the crowd to the next case.

  Tess trailed, mentally keeping track of all the exaggerations and outright lies Sir William told that she might be required to back up with documentation. It was difficult being with him, but Tess could not imagine being without him. He was larger than life and had a flair that she had never encountered before. He was the brightest star in the firmament, the—

  “Pardon me,” Tess said. “I was not paying attention to where I was going.” She looked at the short Chinese woman impeccably dressed in a white satin dress embroidered with writhing dragons and other creatures less recognizable. The green silk shawl had slipped down the woman’s broad shoulders and draped over her elbows as she reached out to press her hands against the case.

  “Exquisite,” the woman said, not noticing Tess. Her attention was fixed on the jade crown inside the case.

  “Yes, it is. You have a few nice carved jade items of your own,” Tess said, seeing the glint of light off the carved green stone ornaments adorning the woman’s jet-black hair.

  The woman looked up, her ebony eyes boring into Tess’s blue ones.

  “These belong to the Jade Emperor.”

  Tess started to speak, then stopped and collected her thoughts. The woman’s recognition of the contents in the case told of some education.

  “They were recovered by Sir William recently. The term ‘Jade Emperor’ applies to any of the dynasty rulers. He has not yet determined which emperor wore this crown.”

  “All the emperors wore this crown,” the Chinese woman said.

  “Are you an authority? I’m sure Sir William would like to speak with you and profit from your knowledge and insight. He—”

  “I am nothing, a ship’s captain, no more.”

  “I beg your pardon? A ship’s captain? That’s—”

  A loud shout from the foyer caused Tess to look away. Her eyes went wide at the sight of a dozen Chinamen rushing into the museum. They brandished long, curved knives. More than one waved a pistol. Once they forced their way through the door leading into the main room, they formed a V and advanced, coming straight for her.

  “Sir William!” Tess cried. The explorer was already in action. He pushed Mrs. Clarke and several of the other women behind him and thrust his hands under his flaring dress coat. “Sir William, no!”

  Tess was horrified at the sight of the pistols Sir William drew and pointed at the Celestials making their way through the exhibit, smashing glass cases and stealing the jade as they advanced.

  She threw her arms around the Chinese woman and knocked her to the floor as Sir William fired a volley. The bullets tore through the space directly above, and one errant slug broke the glass. The cascade of shards caused Tess to flinch. The elegantly clad woman struggled to get free.

  “Let me up, you fool.”

  “He’s shooting, there’s danger,” Tess
said. “Stay down or you’ll be injured.”

  “Fool!” The Chinese woman pushed herself free from Tess’s grip and got to her knees.

  “At them, men! Attack! Give them what for!” cried Sir William.

  Pouring from three smaller doors leading into the exhibit came armed Specials. They sprayed bullets everywhere. Some of them hit the Celestials who were still working on stealing the jade ornaments. Tess saw that the Chinamen were not cowed by the gunfire. It was as if they were used to such things, but they were outnumbered. If more of them had been armed with pistols, they might have made a better showing. As it was, the withering fire from the uniformed Specials dropped one robber after another.

  Tess followed the Chinese woman to her feet. The side of the case holding the jade emperor’s crown had been shattered by Sir William’s stray round, but reaching the jade within the case was difficult.

  “Don’t,” Tess said, grabbing the woman’s wrist as she tried to reach inside. “You’ll cut yourself. And there’s no need to worry. The jade crown is safe.”

  “Aye, that it is, my dear,” called Sir William. He opened the action on his Webley pistols and reloaded. He stopped beside Tess. “I’ll fight to the death to defend my prize.”

  Tess felt as if she would wilt. He had called her his prize!

  “Yes, the jade crown is the prize of this collection. No band of brigands will steal away my glory!”

  Tess stood dumbstruck at the man’s revelation over what he considered most valuable. He fired a few more times, but the Specials had surrounded the few remaining robbers—the ones they had not gunned down. Tess saw the expression on the Chinese woman’s face. For a moment anger had flared but what replaced it was less understandable. She looked frightened. During the gunfire, she had been fearless while Tess had been scared. Now that the danger had passed, Tess felt relieved and the woman was in shock.

  Tess shook her head. How people reacted under stress always amazed her.

  “Bring that one to me,” called Sir William. “The leader.”

  “Howja know which that is?” demanded a Special wearing sergeant’s stripes. “Don’t see no insignia.” He guffawed at this.

  “He’s a sailor,” Sir William said. “A mate, unless I miss my guess, and I seldom do. Bring him here.”

  The Special dragged a burly Celestial over and held him in a hammerlock.

  “Answer the gent’s questions, scum.” The Special jerked hard and almost pulled the man’s arm from its socket.

  “No speak Ingrish,” he said.

  “And I speak no Mandarin. Or is it Cantonese?” Sir William wondered. “They are quite distinct languages, although the written language is similar. I doubt this one can read.”

  Tess glanced from the captive to the Chinese woman. Her expression had changed again to one of utter disdain. She started to speak, thought better of it and stepped away from Sir William. Tess saw the woman mouth a word that might have been “sung” and then turn and walk off.

  “You’ll tend to it, won’t you, my dear?”

  “What? What’s that, Sir William?” Tess lost sight of the Chinese woman in the crush of people leaving the museum.

  “See to cleaning up the broken glass, get the cases back into order, that sort of thing. I must go smooth some ruffled feathers. As invigorating as this evening has been for me, others have found it disquieting.” He thrust his twin pistols back under his coat and called out, “Mrs. Clarke, here! All is well. There is no more danger. Allow me to see you home safely.”

  Tess turned in a full circle. The exhibit was a mess. The jade was safe, except possibly for a few pieces the Specials would steal. The emperor’s crown was secure, though, and this was the centerpiece of the exhibit. The brigands—sailors, Sir William had said, and Tess had no reason not to believe him—were all being taken out by the Specials. Some bodies were dragged but a few went under their own power.

  In a surprisingly short time, she was alone in the vast room. Tess stared down at the jade crown and then looked up. Somehow she had expected to see the woman dressed in the white satin gown. She shivered, put her arms around herself, wishing Sir William had done that earlier, then went to find the museum employees to begin the cleaning.

  All that and she had to wear the uncomfortable corset. It had been quite a night.

  4

  Slocum emptied his Colt Navy into the pack of tong killers charging him. He aimed for their heads and dropped two, causing the others to stumble and fall. This gave him a brief instant to act. He grabbed around his waist and found another stick of dynamite tucked into his gun belt. He pulled it out, got a lucifer from its tin and worked to light it. From the corner of his eye he saw two Sum Yop assassins rushing him. He got the fuse lit, but it would be too late—or so he thought.

  Flashing silver cartwheeled past his head. The two men grunted and fell, hatchets in their chests. Slocum looked at Ah Ming’s father just as he reached for another of the fallen weapons. Slocum knew then that the old man had been a killer in his day. He still was.

  “Thanks,” Slocum said, then spun and tossed the dynamite an instant before the short fuse burned down to the blasting cap. The explosion knocked him backward into the old man, and they went down in a pile. Slocum got to his feet, found another stick and lit the fuse on it, tossing it underhanded between the crates. He had guessed right where the Sum Yop would attack next. He blew up three of them and caused an avalanche of crates to come crashing down, blocking that route.

  While he had cut off one avenue of attack, he had also cut off a way of escaping the building.

  “Keep ’em busy for a few seconds,” Slocum said. He reloaded his six-shooter, knowing there might not be a chance to reload again. He heard what sounded like a vast army assembling out of sight. Six rounds would not put a dent into the number of men that would be storming this position.

  Ah Ming’s father stood with a hatchet in each hand. His dark eyes darted about. Any hint of infirmity had disappeared when he had regained use of his favorite weapons.

  “You got any ideas how to get out of here?” Slocum asked. He sighted and fired, winging a tong man trying to sneak across the tops of the crates. Slocum cursed under his breath. He had hoped to get back to this aerial highway and escape. It had not taken the tong killers long to figure out not only how he had gotten through the building so fast but also how to attack him.

  The old man shook his head.

  “What’s wrong, cat got your tongue?” Slocum asked. He went cold inside when the man opened his mouth and pointed. His tongue had been cut out. “They do that?”

  The old man nodded.

  “We’ll get you back to your daughter and then figure how to even the score,” Slocum said. He had seen torture in his day. The Apaches were about the worst. Slocum had come across a man staked out naked in the desert sun with his eyelids cut off so he would go blind. The only mercy in the situation was that the man had been dead when Slocum had found him. Otherwise, Slocum would have been faced with the decision of getting him back to the nearest cavalry outpost or just putting him out of his misery. That was what he would have done for a wounded animal but doing it for a mutilated human being was different.

  Sometimes, Slocum could not quite figure why, but it was.

  What an old man so decrepit that he could hardly stand did to merit such torture was beyond Slocum. He fired twice more and drove back a renewed attack, but there was nothing he could do to escape through the building.

  “Get down behind this crate,” Slocum said, kicking the box in the man’s direction. “There’s going to be one hell of an explosion real soon.”

  He fumbled in his pockets where he had stuffed a couple other sticks of dynamite and came out with a bundle of five. Slocum chose one short fuse, lit it and then placed it against the wall. He hoped he had not gotten too confused making his way through the building to this spot and that he had figured out which was an exterior wall. Then all thought vanished as the explosion clutched at him like a
powerful fist. Stunned, deaf, blinking dust from his eyes, he sat on the floor and stared stupidly at the gaping hole. Fresh air from outside blew in, carrying the fish scent of the Bay.

  “Come on,” he yelled, getting Ah Ming’s father to his feet. The old man had endured the blast better than Slocum. He still walked with a limp when flat-out running was needed to get away from the Sum Yop.

  Slocum pressed through the hole in the wall and then helped the man. He took a quick shot at a Sum Yop hatchet man running toward them. The slug only hit the man in the leg. He tumbled forward, then started crawling. Slocum was not certain he admired or detested the determination the tong members showed in doing their duty. He put a second bullet into the man’s back. This stopped him.

  “Go straight to your daughter,” Slocum shouted at the old man. His ears rang, and he was not sure if the man understood. Slocum gently pushed him out in the direction of the street, then found himself in a gunfight with two men on the roof who opened fire on him. The bullets kicked up dirt all around his feet. He was in shadow while the two tong killers on the roof failed to realize they had silhouetted themselves against the night sky. The moon had not risen, but the starlight was enough for Slocum to draw a bead. He fired three times and then his hammer fell on an empty chamber.

  He knew he had no time to reload. He ran after Ah Ming’s pa and tripped over something by the curb that threw him to the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of his lungs. He lay gasping, sure that the Sum Yop hatchet men would be on him in a flash. He saw tiny dust clouds rising around him. He was still deaf, but he recognized bullets hitting stone. He tried to stand, but one foot tangled in whatever he had tripped over. Rolling, he came to a sitting position.

  His heart almost exploded when he saw what had caused him to stumble. Ah Ming’s father lay still.