Foreign Seed by Allison Alsup

Author:Allison Alsup
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Turner Publishing Company

CHAPTER 12 _________

ONCE AGAIN, THEY ARRIVE AT WUHU AFTER DARK. THE tow is unknotted, and the steamer continues its way downriver. Taking up his long pole, the fisherman pushes them over the currents and toward the long, raised pier. The port is private, for Standard Oil’s use only, and several miles from the municipal docks.

A string of electric spots sends down yellow cones of light over the boardwalk ahead. Even from a distance, Sokobin recognizes the solitary silhouette waiting there, its slim ease. Chase stands with his hands in his trouser pockets, jacketless and his vest unbuttoned, a tie softly flapping with the breeze. Sokobin wasn’t expecting Arthur to come in person, merely to send his limousine, the faint outline of which Sokobin can see waiting in the lee of a nearby warehouse.

He turns to nudge Lin, only to find the interpreter already awake and sitting up, his glasses returned to his face.

“Wuhu?” Lin asks.

“Yes.” Sokobin gestures toward the old fisherman on the prow. “You really think he can be trusted to watch over the coffin all night?”

“As much as anyone.”

Sokobin gleans the insinuation. Trust is a commodity backed by silver. Besides, at this point, the question is moot. Short of spending the night on the tiny boat himself, Sokobin doesn’t have much choice. The reality is he’s lucky to have found a boatman willing to stay the night with Meyer’s body at any price.

“Tell him he’ll get two more tomorrow morning,” he says, handing Lin a coin, “once he gets us to the ferry for Shanghai.”

Lin nods and takes the silver.

“Make sure he understands the boat leaves from the city port, not here,” Sokobin says. “We’ll need to leave no later than seven to make it.”

“Yes, sir. I remember.”

Sokobin senses he’s repeating himself. He’s fairly certain they went over the plan back in the station house, but that was a lifetime ago, and now he can’t recall what was actually said. Exhaustion has shrouded his brain in fog.

The waves collide with the boardwalk’s thick columns, leaving the water choppy. As they near, Chase cups his hands and calls out, then points beneath his feet to where a metal ladder has been attached to one of the wooden piers. The fisherman shouts over his shoulder. Sokobin doesn’t need the words to be translated. The old man is telling him to be ready to climb; it will be hard to steady the boat.

“I’ll wait for you up top while you sort out the details here,” Sokobin tells Lin. “Hand me up my briefcase, all right?”

The sampan jostles, despite the fisherman’s best attempts to steady the rocking boat with his pole. The thin ladder is there, descending into the current. Reaching, Sokobin grasps ahold of a rusty rung and with whatever breath remains, heaves himself up.

Chase kneels at the edge of the weathered planks above, one arm thrust toward Sokobin. Sheathed in the spotlight’s glow, Arthur appears like an apparition sent from another world.

“Give a hand now,” he calls down.

Meanwhile Sokobin clings to the gritty metal.

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