"What about Amy Robbins?" Brant said.
— We'll have to keep her prisoner inside thehouse," said Steiger.
"But what are we going to tell her?" said Christine. "We don't tell her anything."
"I don't think that's wise, Creed," Delaney said. "I see what Christine's getting at. The poor woman will be terrified enough, it'll beeven worse if she has no idea what's going on. It would be easier if we could get her cooperation. If we get Wells back, he's going to have to be debriefed anyway and we can have her debriefed at the same time. And if we don't get him back. Amy Robbins will be the least of our problems."
"All right," said Steiger reluctantly, "but she doesn't leave the house for even a second. And she's to be watched every moment. "Sounds like you're taking yourself off command post duty." Andre said.
“You got that right," Steiger said. "We've lost two people and I'm not losing anymore. Brant, as of right now, you're in charge of logistics at the new command post. "Sir," she said, "with all due respect, regulations specify that the senior officer-"
"Screw regulations. I'm tired of sitting on my hands.
Besides, since you're so concerned about Amy Robbins, you can babysit her. You're in charge and that's a direct order."
"Yes, sir."
"All right, Larson and Craven, you get to Scotland Yard and brief Neilson.
I'm pulling him out of there. If we're blown, then so is he. Wait till its dark and then get over to Wells' house. Make sure nobody sees you going in. We'll meet you there."
"What about Conan Doyle?" said Andre.
"I'm tempted to pull all surveillance off him," Steiger said. "We're spread too thin as it is. But if Drakov knows we've been watching him, he might decide to take advantage of our cancelling surveillance on him. No, it's too risky. And I want someone on Bram Stoker from now on, as well."
"I can handle that, sir," said Linda Craven.
"All right. You'll work shifts with Neilson," Steiger said. "Larson, cover as much ground as you can on your own and keep in close touch with Grayson. Andre, you cover Conan Doyle. Ransome will relieve you. Ransome, I want you to get some rest first. You look dead. Between the rest of us, we'll cover Wells' house, the docks and Whitechapel."
"That's a lot of territory to cover," said Delaney.
"We've got no choice." said Steiger. "We were counting on the advantage of surprise, but Drakov's turned it around on us. Damn it, I wish to hell we could get some reinforcements." He took a deep breath. -Hell, it's worth a try. I'm going to clock back to base and see Forrester. We've got to have more manpower. In the meantime, if anyone catches sight of Hesketh, take him. Alive, if possible. The same goes for Moreau, but if you can't take him, burn him. As for Drakov and any of his creatures, they're to be killed on sight, regardless of the risk. Any questions?"
There were none.
"All right. Let's move out. We'll rendezvous at Wells' house."
Something was happening. Jasmine had no idea what it was, but something was clearly happening. She was far from ignorant of her grandfather's activities, the ones that had nothing to do with running the apothecary shop. Lin Tao was the head of the Green Dragon tong, a secret society of overseas Chinese which he had founded shortly after they first arrived in London. The organization had grown quickly and it had become the most powerful fighting tong in London. Its aims were primarily to help smuggle Chinese into England and to protect those already there. Even before he had left China, Lin Tao had learned how Europeans often looked down on Orientals and he knew that Chinese immigrants were frequently taken advantage of. And despite his advanced age, Lin Tao was not one to suffer insults meekly. He had once been a powerful man in his own country and now, in Limehouse, he had become a powerful man again.
From time to time, it became necessary for the Green Dragon tong to exert some influence. The police were familiar with the Green Dragon tong. That is, they knew of it and they had seen the results of some of its actions, but they knew almost nothing about its membership, much less who its leaders were. More often than not, the actions of the tong were never reported to the police. One such case was that of a factory owner who hired Chinese laborers, refused to pay them the same wages he paid his occidental workers and frequently had his foreman heat the "heathens," as he called them. "for good measure.” He also had some of the younger Chinese workers brought to his home, where his wife directed them in their household duties with the aid of a braided leather riding crop. The factory owner was requested to desist from these practices. He not only refusal but he redoubled his efforts.
One night, a group of masked men broke into his home. The factory owner awoke in his own bed to find himself bound and gagged his terrified wife beside him, likewise restrained. Neither the servants nor the children were disturbed. They were never even aware of the late night visit. The uninvited guests stayed for just under an hour, long enough to leave a souvenir of their visit tattooed on the lower abdomen of the man's beautiful young wife, just above an extremely private part of her anatomy. It was a very intricate tattoo of a coiled green dragon, about three inches long and beautifully executed. Thereafter, each time the factory owner attempted to have sexual relations with his wife, the sight of the tattoo brought home the memory of the late night visit and he was rendered impotent. Eventually, his beautiful young wife became quite proud of the tattoo. She delighted in showing it to all her lovers.
Of course, Jasmine knew nothing of such things. She knew the tong existed; she had long ago surmised that her grandfather was its leader, but she knew little of the actual workings of the secret group. She had never discussed the subject with her grandfather and his manner indicated that it was not a subject that was open to discussion. Jasmine had been raised in the traditional ways of her people. She did not question her elders. She did not speak unless she was first spoken to. But some things had changed from the way they might have been back in the old country. Jasmine no longer kept her eyes downcast when she was speaking to a man, unless that man was her grandfather, though in most other respects, she still followed the old ways-western influence was coming to her very slowly.
Every day now, men were coming into the apothecary shop-young Chinese men, men who were not customers-and they were asking for her grandfather in the most respectful tones. Her grandfather would peck out from behind the curtains and beckon them into the back room, where they would converse for a short while in soft, low voices, almost whispers, and then the young men would leave, bowing to her grandfather, some to come back the next day, some a day or two later, some only several hours later, and then the process would repeat itself.
Something was happening. The men of the Green Dragon tong had been mobilized. They were searching for something- or someone-and Jasmine was certain that it had something to do with Dr. Morro and the new gentleman, the Englishman named Wells. And somehow, Jasmine knew, the man named Drakov had to be involved, the evil man with whom Dr. Morro was obsessed.
She wanted to help in some way, but it was not her place to offer, much less admit that she even knew anything about it. Her sense of helplessness and frustration was causing her to lose sleep and it was because of this that she had overheard a conversation between her grandfather, Dr. Morro, and Mr. Wells.
She had been coming down the stairs, on her way down to the shop to get some herb tea that was good for sleeping. She had been barefoot and she was walking softly, quietly, so as not to disturb anyone else, when she heard the low voicesof her grandfather and the two men coming from the back room. The man named Wells had raised his voice briefly, but was quickly silenced by Dr. Morro.
"Absolutely not!" said Wells, his voice lower, though no less intense.
"Herbert, please try to understand," Moreau said. "There really is no other way."
"Icannot and will not be a party to murder,” Wells said vehemently. "No matter what the man has done, we still have laws-"