The Master of Rain Part 13

Natasha shook her head.

Caprisi had the pencil in his mouth again. "These flats are owned by Lu Huang."

She didn't react.

"So what brings you, or Lena, to live here?"

"We pay rent. To a company on Bubbling Well Road. If they're connected to Lu, then I'm not aware of it."

Field did not think Natasha was a good liar. Caprisi must have agreed, because he was looking around the flat, clearly wondering how she could afford to live in such surroundings.

"You must be aware of what happened to the doorman."

She nodded, again dropping her gaze.

"We believe that Lu's men were responsible."

Field looked at her right hand, which was pointing at the ground, her wrist limp. She was wearing a gold bracelet.

"Can you think of any reason," Caprisi went on, "for such drastic action?"

Natasha shrugged. "They say he was a communist."

"Like you," Field said.

She stared at him.

"How does the daughter of a tsarist officer," he went on, gesturing at the photograph on the bookshelf, "come to attend meetings at the New Shanghai Life?" New Shanghai Life?"

"My father is dead."

Field felt his face reddening. "So you have decided . . ."

"So it's none of your business."

"On the contrary," Caprisi said slowly. "It's very much Mr. Field's business. The Settlement takes a very . . . strong view of emigres who abuse its hospitality by using this as a base to export political ideas to the Chinese. That's right, isn't it, Mr. Field?"

"Yes."

Caprisi turned back to face her. "So what does Pockmark Lu get in return for allowing you to live here?"

"I told you. We pay rent."

"I can check that."

"Well, check it, then."

"Was Lena his girl . . . I mean his exclusively? Did he let her go with others?"

She shook her head in anger and frustration.

"Did he give her to someone as a favor, or a reward?"

She stared at both of them. "Have you finished?"

Caprisi hesitated. "Lena Orlov was stabbed. You saw the body. You were-"

"Friends, yes, but life has to go on." The hostility disappeared and Field saw again in her eyes the same deep hurt and fragility that he'd witnessed the day before. "Lena did what she had to do, that's all."

Natasha dropped her head again, her long hair tumbling down and obscuring her face.

Caprisi stood, but instead of moving to the door, he went to the window and looked out toward the racecourse. "Lena was stabbed almost twenty times." He put his hands in his pockets and turned toward her. "In the stomach and in the v.a.g.i.n.a. It looked worse after they'd cleaned off all the blood."

Caprisi looked at Field.

"You know, some of the wounds . . . Around the top of the v.a.g.i.n.a, for example, there were so many, so close together, that they created deep craters, right down to the bone."

Natasha appeared transfixed by a point on the wall opposite.

"Lena was Lu's girl, Miss Medvedev, as you certainly know. Can you be sure you or one of your colleagues won't be next? With that level of anger . . ."

She shook her head, then turned to look at Field. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Perhaps Caprisi was moved by this, too, because he appeared thoughtful and suddenly more sympathetic. He pulled out Lena Orlov's notebook and walked over to hand it to her. "We found this hidden inside one of the leather-bound volumes in her bookcase."

Natasha took it and glanced over the entries, wiping her eyes. She did not look at Field again.

"It's a list of s.h.i.+ps, departure dates, and destinations," Caprisi explained. "There's one leaving at the end of this month."

She handed the notebook back to him.

"You've no idea why Lena would have been hiding this?"

She shook her head again.

"There is a note at the bottom: 'All payments in ledger two.' What could that mean?"

Natasha shrugged.

"What is ledger two?"

"I don't know."

"You never heard Lena talk about any s.h.i.+pments?"

"No."

"Was she involved in any way in any kind of activity that you think this might refer to?"

"I don't know."

"You never talked about anything like this?"

Natasha shook her head.

"What do you think 'ledger two' might be a reference to?"

"I've no idea."

"Speculate."

She shrugged.

"It just seems odd, doesn't it? Notes that were sensitive enough to be hidden. s.h.i.+pments of something that obviously suggests some kind of criminal activity, and a reference to 'payments.' You must be able to make a guess."

Natasha looked straight at Caprisi. "You can go on asking all day, but I've already told you. I've no idea what you're talking about."

Caprisi stared at her. "We'll leave you, Miss Medvedev," he said quietly, walking to the door. "I can understand your distress, but . . . I've been doing this a long time." He sighed. "And I sense you could help us more than you're letting on."

Eleven.

Downstairs, Field almost choked on the thick, sulfurous air. The wind had changed direction again and strengthened, bringing thick fumes from the factories across the river.

They climbed straight into the car and wound up the windows. Caprisi took out a white handkerchief and put it across his mouth. "This city is a cesspit," he said as the driver turned the car around. "Can't you tell your uncle?"

"What do you mean?"

Caprisi sighed and looked out of the window. "It's not exactly a democracy, is it? A small group of men who own the big businesses run the council, with your uncle at their head . . . No wonder the air is poisonous. It's poisoned by money, money, and more money."

"Isn't New York polluted? Or Chicago?"

"No. Anyways, not like this."

Caprisi crossed his legs, placing his notebook on his knee and flicking back through it. "What did you think?"

"About what?"

"About her. Natasha."

"I think she's frightened."

"I'd say so." He looked down at his notes again. "What's Lu's interest in these girls? Why is he paying for them?"

"The obvious interest."

"Natasha maybe, but there are hundreds of girls like Lena, and boys, of all ages." Field blanched again at this thought, but Caprisi didn't appear to notice. "Lena was nothing special, was she? He could have screwed her if he'd wanted. He didn't have to go installing her in a penthouse apartment. Natasha-now, there's a different story. That I can see. She's got cla.s.s. She's special, a trophy, but not Lena."

"Perhaps Lena was a useful gift."

"Perhaps that was it."

"Or had useful information."

"On what?"

"On the communists."

Caprisi turned toward him.

"I don't think," Field went on, "that there is any doubt Lena Orlov was attending meetings at the New Shanghai Life New Shanghai Life and at the Soviet consulate. So was Natasha." and at the Soviet consulate. So was Natasha."

"So they're Lu's agents agents?"

"It's possible."

"But it can hardly be a secret that they live in his apartments. So what use are they?"

"Go-betweens."

Caprisi nodded.

"The communists are gaining power in the south," Field said. "Quite soon they're expected to advance north. Lu likes to have as many fingers in the pie as he can get. He's not going to be attending meetings himself, and these girls could provide information on what is discussed and planned amongst the Bolshevik underground here. Or perhaps the owners.h.i.+p of these apartments is not not as commonly known as you suppose. We are only aware of it because of Chen, and he seems to know everything." as commonly known as you suppose. We are only aware of it because of Chen, and he seems to know everything."

Caprisi nodded slowly again, staring out of the window. "Natasha Medvedev is frightened, but she's making no attempt to help herself."

"She doesn't trust us."

"She's lying about those notes."

Field nodded.

"How much do you think she knows about the s.h.i.+pments?"

"I'm not sure."

"It must be opium."

Field shrugged.

"Lu controls the supply line into the city from central China. He gets together with others to export the drugs to Europe. It's a whole new market. That's a departure for the Green Gang, but it would be incredibly profitable, wouldn't it?"

"I imagine so."

"Lu has a brilliant mind and total control of the underworld here, but he's going to need expat help to build a European operation. So . . . somebody else is involved. A syndicate, perhaps. Lena gets to hear of this, perhaps from Lu. She sees that it's explosive and begins to make secret notes. Dates, s.h.i.+pments." Caprisi looked down, deep in thought. "Lena and Natasha are friends. Does Lena talk to her, do you think? Are they close?"