Chapter 50

No one in Shed #2 was aware that the rain had finally ceased, this despite the fact that they were inside a structure with a corrugated, metal roof.   They were only aware of the wiry, slightly bandy-legged red panda holding forth in the center of the room.

“The exchange point was most likely what is known as a 'dead drop',” Shang Li-Sung was saying, “a small, hidden space in which one member of the cell leaves a message and another picks it up later.  This allows for information to be passed between them without their ever seeing one another, or even knowing each other’s identities.  That way, if either one is caught, he cannot give up his compatriot,”  He paused briefly for effect, then added, with a half sardonic smile, “In theory.” 

“But in this case, not in practice?” said Katie, her piebald ears arcing towards one another.

Shang’s grin broadened by just half an inch.  “No, I do not believe so,” he said, and then his face became serious once more, “But the ideal place for a dead drop is in a public location, with many furs passing in and out, but at the same time a location with at least a modicum of privacy.  Lavatories, for example are extremely popular as dead drops.”

Striper McKenna let out a short half snort, half growl.

“Not in this place they wouldn’t be, sport.  The pissers round here...Er, beg y pardon, Y’ Grace, the lavatories round Iso are about as private as a seat at a Test Match.”

“I am aware of that, Striper.” the red panda answered in the same Zen Master’s voice he had been using for the past ten minutes, “But what is important here is that the dead drop method of exchanging messages  is not without it’s flaws.  If one cell member wishes to learn the identity or another cell member, all he need do is leave a message in the prearranged location, then conceal himself and wait to see who comes to pick it up.”

“Which is what you think is that yiffer Le Ho-Chang did?” It was Drigo Chavez..

“I am certain of it.” Shang replied, “Once Le realized that he would become expendable the moment his mission was completed, he knew his only chance of survival was to learn the identity of at least one of his fellow cell members.   Then he could either threaten to expose his compatriot if the Snakeheads refused to help him escape or, much a more likely scenario in my opinion, offer to give up his partner to US if we agreed to let him go.”

“Like we ever would!” snarled the Striper.  Shang started to respond to this, then seemed to change his mind and went off on a different tack, taking a step towards Katie and speaking to her directly

“That was why Le was so terrified when you confronted him, after he was thrown off the plane.  The identity of his partner was a useful trading commodity ONLY so long as it might have been helpful in securing your safe release...but here you were, already safe and sound.  When Le saw that, he knew that nothing could save him.” He stepped back slightly and resumed addressing the group as a whole. “However, Le also understood that simply learning who his partner was would not be adequate trade goods in the event he that was caught.  He would also need some evidence to PROVE the identity of his fellow cell member.  Otherwise, how would we know he wasn’t simply giving us a name picked at random?   And so, instead of destroying the messages after he picked them up from the dead drop, he began saving them and hiding them away in his shack.”

Katie’s ear stood up and formed a steeple once again.

“Huh?  Uh, what good would that have done, Shang?  I hardly think Brian would have signed his name to...” she stopped and slapped her forehead, “Mnh-mnh-mnh-mnh-mnh-mnh...dumbass mare....riiiight, a simple paw-writing comparison.”  

Shang nodded and Drigo Chavez scratched at the back of his head.

“Then what the yiff happened to those messages, amigo?  That yiffer lose ‘em in the jungle after he ran?”

“No,” said Shang, speaking slowly and regarding the coati with hooded eyes, “I believe the still warm ashes that I found in Le’s stove after he fled were all that remained of those messages. ”

This produced a disharmonious chorus from the others.

“What the YIFF, mate...?”

“Why the yiff would Le...”

“...yiffin’ destroy his only...”

“...yiffing chance to get out of this?”

Shang folded his arms and looked grimly from one face to another.

“He didn’t...Brian Lu did.  What Le had forgotten about a dead drop  is that it is a two way exchange; if he could learn that Brian Lu was one of his partners by keeping watch on the drop point, so  Brian could learn that HE was a fellow cell member by the same method.” he took a final puff on the cigar he’d been smoking, then dropped it to the concrete floor and ground it out with his heel, “Only Brian learned a lot more than the fact that Le Ho-Chang was another member of his cell, he also discovered, much to his horror, that Le was saving the messages left for him, instead of destroying them.”

“And Brian didn’t DO anything?” asked Katie, incredulous.

“No,” said Shang, “I believe he did do something – I think he informed the cell-leader of Le’s actions, but...and this is strictly conjecture, his superior not only declined to act but actually ORDERED Brian to do nothing.” Seeing the imminent question about to be raised, he added quickly, “There are any number of reasons why he might have done this, Your Grace.  Perhaps it was because the operation was close and there was no time for a replacement for Le to be brought in, or possibly it was because Le knew Brian Lu was one of his co-conspirators, but he didn’t who the cell leader was.”  He stopped and sucked at a corner of his mouth, “Or, most likely I think, Le Ho-Chang might not have been well liked in the camp but he WAS well known.  His sudden disappearance would have attracted a great deal of attention, something his cell leader most certainly would not have wanted.  Had it been the other way around, had Brian Lu been the one hoarding the messages, it would have been a different story.”

“Too bloody right about that, mate.” said Striper McKenna, turning to spit, “Brian was two days missin’, skipped a payday no less, an’ hardly an eyebrow was raised.”  His eyes narrowed a little, “but then old Brian ended up doing somethin’ after all didn’t he?  He went to Le’s shack, lookin’ for those messages an’ then burned ‘em.  How come?”

“How come,” the red panda said, looking at Katie again, “is because things didn’t go according to the Snakehead Gang’s plan.  Her Grace managed not only to escape but to send out a distress-call, saying what had happened to her.  When Brian Lu heard about that, it was too much, even for someone serving the Snakeheads under a death threat to his family.  They almost certainly had not told him that he had been recruited as part of horsenapping-for-ransom plot directed at no less a fursonage than Her Grace, Duchess Katie MacArran.  Even Le never knew WHY he’d been ordered to sabotage the autogyro.  That, I believe, is why Brian Lu flew into a panic when he learned what he was REALLY being used for... and went rushing to Le’s shack, orders from his leader be damned.   He had to tear the place apart, but eventually he found the messages and destroyed them.  Do you remember that empty, secret compartment I discovered  in Le Ho-Chang’s travel-chest?  That is where they had been hidden, I am sure of it.” Now Shang’s eyes narrowed slightly and he raised a finger in the manner of an ancient sage, “But in his frenzy, Brian Lu forgot one salient fact; where there’s fire there’s smoke.  And when Le Ho-Chang saw that there was smoke coming from the stove pipe of his shack, he went hurrying to investigate.  Wisely, he chose not to confront the intruder but to first observe him through one of the windows.  When he saw who it was and what was happening inside his dwelling, he realized for the first time that his double-cross had been found out.  With no other alternative left to him, he went running to Brian Lu’s shack to grab some extra clothing, and perhaps some food and water...and the rest you already know.”
 
“Not quite, mate.” Striper McKenna corrected, then looked off in the direction of the guard-house with that feral expression again, “But that little bastard, Le’ll be tellin’ us soon enough, eh?”

“Yes, but just yet, Striper.” said Shang, again in that ‘patient master’ tone again, “Le Ho-Chang isn’t going anywhere at the moment; he can wait.  Before we do anything else, I need to conduct a more thorough examination of Brian Lu’s shack.”  

The Striper rumbled a little at this, but then nodded in agreement.

“Besides, it’s best to let Le stew for awhile.” the red panda continued, “and with that in mind Striper, I need you to do a favor for me.”

“Sure thing, mate.” said the Tasmanian tiger, folding his arms “What y’need, then?”

“I need you to go to the guardhouse and pass on an order for me.  Tell them I want a Ch’ing cage built and set up outside the guardhouse where Le can see it.  If he’s in one of the two cells that does not have a window, they’re move him to a cell that does.  And, very important Striper, be absolutely certain that you give this order within range of Le Ho-Chang’s hearing.”

“Consider it done, mate.” said the Striper, but then pulled at an ear in confusion, “Only...what’s a Ch’ing cage, eh?”

“Common punishment under the Manchus.” the red panda explained, clasping his paws like a mandarin, “It’s a bamboo cage, shaped something like an obelisk, and about the size of wardrobe.  The prisoner is placed inside, standing on a pile of wooden slats, with his head protruding though the top and his neck tightly encircled by the bars.  Each day, one of the slats is pulled out from under the his feet, causing him to gradually lose his footing, until he has to stand on the very tips of toes to keep from choking to death.  Then he is left that way until he succumbs to exhaustion and dies.  You need not explain any of this to the guards, they will know what a Ch’ing cage is...and so will Le.”

The Striper looked as if he had just received a party invitation, then recited a quick, impromptu ditty.

“The traitor who sets
up his mistress and lets
her be taken by brigands vile
I shall set him up too
after letting him stew
and then choke him upon his own bile.”

The response to this was another bewildered look, this time from all the others...all except for Katie, who applauded heartily then responded with a few lyrics of her own,

“My object all sublime,
I shall achieve in time --
To let the punishment fit the crime,
The punishment fit the crime.”

She smiled and folded her arms.

“So, fan of the D’Oly Carte are you Striper?”

“Oh, aye.” said the Tasmanian tiger, looking uncharacteristically modest, “Even appeared in a few productions when I was at school; played the Pirate King in Penzance and Dick Deadeye in Pinafore.”

There was no way Katie could resist an opening like that.

“You as Dick Deadeye?  Now THAT’S what I call type casting.”

“Aaaaah, piss off!” said the big marsupial and raised a fist while slapping the crook of his arm.  The gesture was meant playfully and Katie took no offense.  It was only after he had departed for the guardhouse that she explained to the others what they had been talking about.

“Ahhh, I see,” said Shang, “Yes, I have heard of the Mikado, but am not familiar with the songs.” He turned quickly serious, “But right now, I’ve got some other business to attend to.  Drake?  Would you mind assisting me?”

The heeler’s ears went up, not so much in fear as surprise.

“Sure thing, mate.  But what d’yer need me for then?”

Shang brushed lightly at his nose with a finger.

“I require your canine sense of smell.”

Katie insisted upon accompanying them, and quickly began to wonder if that were such a good idea.  Every time she passed by a group of miners, they would all try very hard NOT to look at her.  From every half open doorway and behind each and every window blind, it seemed that a thousand eyes were watching her; the rumor mill was obviously working in high gear.  Did they know what had really happened when the Snakeheads had taken her?

Welllll, she would have had to deal with it sooner or later, so it might as well be now.  Let them see her, let them keep on seeing her -- until the novelty, or whatever it was finally wore off.

There were guards posted at either end of the nameless street where Brian Lu had lived, with a length of sisal twine strung across the roadway entrance.  From this hung small a tablet, brushed with stern, Chinese characters:  “No passage through here!”  Directly in front of the cordon, a small crowd had gathered, not curiosity seekers this time but Brian Lu’s neighbors, all of them in a sullen humor at having been turned out in the rain.  As the twine was raised to let Katie and the others pass underneath, a couple of the miners favored her with smoldering looks, and one of them, a Pallas’ cat, actually turned and spat on the ground.

That turned out be a huge mistake on his part.  This was not the Katie MacArran of a few days ago.  She immediately rounded on the feline, ears back against her scalp and her one blue eye blazing.

“What was THAT?!” She demanded, in a voice like a broken steam hose, “Did you just spit when I went by?!”

The cat’s ears also went back, but in fear not in anger.

“M-Miss MacArran...I-I-I...”

“That’s Your Grace to you.” the pinto mare snapped. “And you’re docked a week’s pay, effective immediately.”

The cat looked as if he were going to cry.  He immediately clasped his paws, and seemed to shrink by two sizes.”

“Mis...I-I mean Your Grace...please, I am sorry.  I cannot afford to lose a week’s pay.  My family...”

Her Grace was thoroughly unmoved.

“You wanna try for TWO weeks?  Keep talking.”

The cat instantly silenced himself, and Katie raised her head to address the rest of the assembled miners.

“The NEXT one of you that spits on the ground in my presence like that won’t be so lucky.  You won’t just have your pay deducted, you’ll lose everything and be turned out the gate.  I don’t care whether you like me or hate my guts, but you WILL respect my authority!”

When she turned away, her companions were both watching....but with very different expressions.  Shang Li-Sung was nodding in grave approval, but Drake Hackett was looking at her as though she had just bitten the head off a live chicken.

“Uhhh, Y’ Grace?” said the heeler, sounding not a little like Oliver Twist approaching the workhouse master for more gruel, “Don’t y’think that was going...well, a little over the top?”

“No, it wasn’t.” the pinto mare informed him coldly, and then her blue eye opened wider while her brown one closed part of the way, “And by the way...Drake?”

Drake’s tail went up between his legs.  She had never before spoken to him in this tone of voice.

“Uh yes, Y’ Grace?”

“What I said about respecting my authority applies to you too.  Got that?”

“Yes, Y’ Grace.”

He would later tell Keith Lawton, “It was right then mate, I first realized how much whatever’d happened to Her Grace out there had changed her....and that her and the Battler was headed on the outs.  Wasn’t gonna happen right away mind, but it WAS gonna happen....sure as bulldog ants’ll sting yer.”

There was another sisal rope stretched across the entrance to Brian Lu’s flat and another guard, a Shar-Pei dog, who stepped briskly aside and snapped a salute at the party’s approach.

Now that was more like it, Katie decided.

The flat was dark when they entered, the lamps still unlit...and they were going to remain that way.

“Uh-huh,” said Shang holding the one that had hung over the dining table up close for Katie’s inspection, “See here your Grace?  See how the wick is all but gone?   This lamp was not put out, it was allowed to burn down.  This is very much an indication that Brian Lu did not take his own life.”  He said no more, it wasn’t necessary.  Suicides, as a rule, like to put their affairs in order before making their final exit...and that includes not leaving any lights burning.

Drake Hackett emitted a short, low growl. “Yeah, well there’s something else that tells us, dun’ it mate?  Means Brian Lu snuffed it either at night or durin’ a rainstorm.  Otherwise, he wouldn’t have needed to light the lamps in the first place, would he?”

“Yes, that’s right Drake,” said the red panda, regarding him with a mixture of respect and surprise.  The Queensland Heeler just shrugged..

“Don’t forget I was a newspaper reporter ‘fore I came here, Shang.  As Her Grace could tell you, any correspondent worth his salt’ll have at least a bit of the detective in him.”

“Indeed,” said Shang, nodding in deference, “And you’re right.  I HAD forgotten you once worked as reporter.”

There was momentary delay while new lamps were fetched from the neighboring dwellings.  Drake, however, balked at lighting them right away.

“If it’s my sense of smell y’ need, mate.” he said, “Best leave this place dark for a bit.  It’s instinctive with us canines to let our noses be our guides whenever it’s hard to see.  And besides, those paraffin lamps raise a bit of an odor when they’re lit.  Best not have anything might mask whatever it is y’looking for, eh?”

“All right, Drake.” Said Shang, setting the kerosene lamp aside for the moment. “First, just take a breath.  Can you smell the ammonia?  I know it’s coming from the floor, but do you detect any other sources?”

A soft silence filled the room, punctuated only by the sound of Drake Hackett inhaling and exhaling.  Then the heeler dropped down on one knee, held like that for a second, then rose again and turned to face the others.

“I reckon there’s a jug of ammonia in here somewhere’s, Shang, but the only place where it’s been spread round is the floor, far as I can tell.”

“All right,” said the red panda, “Now do you think you can find the dining table.”

Even in the dim light, Katie could easily make out Drake’s ears rising up.

“You kiddin’ me mate?  With all that smelly muck all over it, I could find that bloody thing in a coal mine.”

“Ah, hmmm.” said the red panda, almost to himself, “So the floor was cleaned but not the table; the table was only wiped off.  Can you make out what it was that was spilled on the tabletop, Drake?”

Now, the dog’s ear went backwards

“Bloody hell, mate.  Do I look like a yiffin’ Chinese chef?  Food...that’s what’s on the table, with a big splash of tea thrown in for good measure.”

“Is there any other odor apparent?” said Shang, ignoring the canine’s rejoinder, “Do you detect an aroma of bitter almond coming from the tabletop, by any chance?”

“Lemme see.” said Drake, and went over to the dining table, moving his nose slowly along the surface.  The image reminded Katie of a professor trying to decipher a runic inscription.  After several moments of this, the heeler stood up and turned around with a shrug.

“Sorry mate, nothing.”

“All right, then.” said the red panda, “Check the wok on the stove there, then the teapot and those cups on the shelf.  You’re looking for same thing.”

Drake obediently poked his nose into each of the thick, earthenware cups, and then wok and the iron teapot.  When looked at Shang and Katie again, it was with a half-weary, half-puzzled expression.

“No mate, no cyanide.  And yeah, I’m sure.” 

“So Brian died of poisoning, did he?” queried Katie, speaking up for the first time.

“Yes,” said Shang, his frown clearly visible even in the gloom, “But apparently not from cyanide poisoning.  That’s very odd.”

It WAS odd.  Getting hold of cyanide in a gold mine is about as difficult as finding cotton candy at a carnival; it’s a substance widely used in extracting gold from ore-bearing rock.  And although the vast majority of the Iso Valley mine’s gold came in the form of gold dust or the occasional nugget, the hydraulic extractors did uncover the occasional piece of rubble from which the metal needed to be chemically separated.  For that purpose, a small supply of the Potassium Cyanide was kept in a locker attached to one of the dredging sheds   It should have been the obvious toxin for Brian Lu to employ in committing suicide...and yet apparently it hadn’t been used in this instance.

“Did you notice any other unusual odor in the wok, pot, or any of the cups?” Shang queried.  Drake Hackett’s ears went up, this time one higher than the other.

“Uh, yeah mate,” he answered with a sardonic growl, “but it weren’t poison...not strictly speaking, anyways.”

“Eh?” said the red panda, his own ears also rising.

By way of explanation, the red Queensland Heeler held out one of the teacups for Shang’s consideration.  “I dunno what it was exactly, mate...but whatever kind of booze was in this cup, it was some bloody strong stuff.”

Katie’s ears also went up, making it unanimous.

“Wha...?  I thought Brian Lu never drank.”

“Because he wanted to save his pay, Your Grace.” Shang reminded her, “Not because he didn’t like alcoholic drink.”  He took the cup from Drake and sniffed it himself, then recoiled slightly with his nostrils and eyes flaring.

“All Gods...Moo Goo Qua Foo Goo Chew.”  He looked at Drake Hackett again, “You are right Drake, it is a VERY potent liquor, made from herbs, oranges...and tiger bones.”

“Ahhh, I think I’ll stick to Bundaberg, thank you.” said the dog, making an unpleasant face.

“Yes, I thought you would.” Shang replied with a small snigger, then motioned in the direction of the front door,  “All right Drake, you may go now, if you like....and thank you for your most valuable assistance.”

“If y’don’t mind mate,” said the heeler, “I think I’ll stick around a bit.  Y’ve got me old reporter’s curiosity up, you see.”

“Please yourself.” Shang replied.  He lit the first lamp and passed it to Katie

They found Brian Lu laid out on his narrow, bamboo bed with his paws crossed over his midsection.  The expression on his face was neither peaceful, nor a rictus of horror.  With his half closed eyes, one slightly wider than the other, and the corners of his mouth bent downward, Brian Lu resembled nothing so much as a suspicious drunkard.   The only unnerving thing in the room was the cloud of flies that rose from the body like a curtain as they entered.

That...and the stench, and not just from the decay.  When the poison had taken effect, Brian Lu’s bowels had let go.   Katie almost bent double as soon as she stepped through the doorway, and Drake Hackett came within an ace of heaving all over the floor.

As soon as they recovered however, both of them became instantly stoic.  In the last few days Katie MacArran had seen, smelled, and been through much worse than this. 

As for Drake Hackett, “Nothin’ I’ve not seen before, mates.  I used to chase news stories round the Outback, y’know.  It’s NOT a forgivin’ place.”

“Mmmmm,” said Shang, which could have meant anything.  He went over to the body, motioning for the canine to follow, then passed him the lamp.  He then took out his knife, and used the tip to push the left sleeve of Brian Lu’s tunic almost to the elbow, then turned the blade against the skin and began to shave a small rough patch from the back of the arm, where the fur was the thinnest.
“Hold the lamp a little higher, will you Drake?” he said.   The canine did, and Shang peered closer.  Then he pointed, “Yes, definitely not cyanide.  Look here, see how there is no greenish skin discoloration?”

Drake answered with a wry yip,  “Sorry, sport.  Us canines’ specialty is pickin’ out different smells not different colours.”

“Yes, of course.” said Shang with not a trace of embarrassment, then moved down to the foot of the bed, ”Now I require both of your help, I need you to lift Brian’s legs up one at a time, while I place a prop under each of his ankles.”

It was amazing to Katie just how heavy a dead body’s legs were.  It did indeed take both her and Drake to lift Brian Lu’s left leg high enough so that Shang could wedge a piece of stovewood underneath.  The right leg felt even a little heavier.

But when he was done, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place.

“Look there,” said Shang, pointing to the heels of Brian Lu’s boots,  “They’ve been worn clean, while the soles are still dirty...and there is a wood splinter imbedded in one of the heels.”

Drake Hackett grasped the significance of this at once.

“Shite!” he barked, emitting a low growl afterwards, “Brian died in the other room and was dragged in here afterwards.”

“Which means it was murder, not suicide.” added Katie with an angry snuffle. “Only that still doesn’t explain why the poison wasn’t cyanide.”

“Actually, now that we know Brian Lu was murdered, I believe it does.” said Shang, “Remember, the more readily available a poison is, the easier it is to recognize; there isn’t a worker in Iso who doesn’t know that cyanide carries the strong odor of bitter almond.” He gestured at the body, “That was why the killer didn’t use it.  Had Brian Lu detected that aroma in either his food or his tea, he would have realized at once that someone was trying to poison him.”

“And then come in to us, and confessed everything.” said Drake, folding his arms and nodding darkly at the body.

“I doubt that, Drake.” said Katie, then looked at Shang, “If he had, the Snakeheads would have taken it out on his family, am I right?”

“Not quite.” said the red panda, with an odd look of sadness on his face,  “But that is why, up until just now, I suspected that Brian Lu HAD taken his own life...only not of his own free will.  I thought that he had been ORDERED to kill himself in order to spare his kin back in Shanghai.”  He grunted, then inclined his head towards the open door.  “But that was before I learned two things; first that the body had been moved, and secondly that the poison used was not cyanide.  Now, we can be certain it was murder.”

“But why WAS it murder, Shang?” said Katie, mildly exasperated “Why didn’t our Mr. Big just order Brian to off himself or else his family would suffer?  Wouldn’t he have obeyed?”

“I have an idea about that,” said Shang, “But what we know Your Grace is that Brian Lu’s death coincided with your return to Iso.  And as I have already stated, he had already panicked once before...when he learned of your distress signal.  Possibly the killer felt he had to move quickly, that Brian was too unstable to be trusted for even another second....but I suspect there was another, more practical reason.”

He pointed at the door again.

“According to what I’ve been told, Your Grace, the runner I sent back to camp with the word that you’d been rescued arrived right at the dinner hour.  When the word began to spread, everyone immediately interrupted their cooking to come to the gate and await you...all but one, apparently.  HE saw a golden opportunity to rid himself of an unstable underling and went to Brian Lu’s flat, where he slipped the poison into either his tea or his food.  Then he left and waited for Brian to be found dead on his pallet the next day...which WOULD have looked like suicide had it worked out like the way he planned.”

He paused here, putting his palms against one another and tapping the index fingers together.

“But things went wrong for the killer.  Unbeknownst to him, when Brian Lu returned home he was, not surprisingly, in an extremely agitated state.  And so he did something that he normally never did; he had a drink with his meal to steady his nerves...and of an especially potent liquor.”  He raised one ear again,  “As I recall Your Grace, the pain remedy that the herbal doctor Ji Su-King prescribed for you cannot be ingested with alcohol.  Is that right?”

“Yeah,” the pinto mare replied , folding her arms and wondering where this was going. “because alcohol will increase the effect to the point where it might...”

Her words trailed off as she finally grasped it.

“Yes,” said the red panda, “and the alcohol Brian Lu ingested had the same effect upon whatever poison he had been given.  So, instead of acting slowly and causing him to pass away after he had retired for the night, it took effect immediately and dropped him right in the middle of his dinner.  Then, when the murderer returned the next morning make certain Brian was dead, he found the deceased not in his bed where he was supposed to be, but at the dining table with his meal and his tea spilled everywhere.  Thus the killer was obliged to clean up quickly and move the body into the bedroom, in a crude attempt to make it look like the suicide it was supposed to have been.”

“So, any idea who the killer is?” asked Katie.

“Someone knows a thing or two ‘bout poisons, that’s for sure.” said Drake Hackett.

“Yes,” said Shang, “But that won’t tell us much, I’m afraid.  Poisons are so widely employed by the Chinese triads, even the lowliest members have at least a rudimentary knowledge of how to use them.  In the wake of the Shanghai massacre, Li Kan-Ng the Snakehead’s lodge master had to prepare his own meals for a month, and employ not one but TWO tasters.  It is that common a practice.”

Katie nodded and folded her arms. “So you think our Mr. Big is an actual member of the Snakehead Gang, not just a paid or blackmailed lackey, like Le and Brian Lu?”

“Given the scope of the Snakehead’s plans, I would say almost certainly.” the red panda replied, “But if you are thinking of exposing him by searching all the miners individually for the snakehead tattoo, I am afraid that will be waste of time. Only relatively high-ranking members of the gang have the mark displayed as prominently as did Chu Lung-Kuo.  Our spymaster, whoever he is, will have his tattoo in a discreet location...somewhere under his fur, and it will be no bigger than  postage stamp.

Katie snuffled and her ears went back.  Her most recent dose of pain medicine was beginning to wear off, and with it her patience.

“So what CAN you tell us about him that’s useful?” she asked.

Shang immediately raised another finger.

“First of all, that Brian Lu knew the identity of our Mr. Big and was planning to expose him if he was caught...or at least the killer THOUGHT that was the case.”

“But why would Brian do that?” asked Drake Hackett, with an aggravated yip, “Like Her Grace said, wouldn’t the Snakeheads’ve taken it out on his family, then?”

Shang’s reaction to this was surprising.  He sighed deeply and turned his gaze out the window for a second.  When he looked back again, it was with two of the saddest and weariest eyes Katie had ever seen.

“No,” he said quietly, “Because I think they’re already dead...or as good as dead.  Brian Lu committed a huge indiscretion by inadvertently tipping off Le Ho-Chang that they were on to his treachery.  As soon as he came to his senses again, he must have at least suspected that his family was already doomed...and they were.   Anyone who has ever dealt with the Snakeheads knows that they never make a threat without carrying it out.”

Another snuffle from Katie, “But if he couldn’t save his family, he could at least exact a measure of revenge on their behalf by exposing the master spy; is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” said Shang, “But not until he was sure it was too late.  What if he betrayed the master spy, and the Snakeheads had NOT been planning to harm his family?   They would of course, that was inevitable, but Brian wasn’t going to accept it immediately, no one would.  That was why the killer had to move quickly...before Brian was finally able to convince himself of the truth.”

A brief, very brief smile flitted across the red panda’s features and was gone.

“And that,” he said, “is how we will expose him...with the help of Le Ho-Chang.”  His mouth became a thin, flat line. “But I must warn you in advance, Your Grace...you are not going to like this plan.”


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