China by Edward Rutherfurd (latest novels to read TXT) 📗

their place. As they did so, Shi-Rong could see that the pirate’s ankle bones were already smashed and that blood was flowing from them freely.

“Why do you change the boards?” he asked the sergeant.

“These ones have been soaked in water. Makes ’em heavier and they grip tighter.” He gave Shi-Rong a bleak look. “These’ll finish the business.”

—

So they went to work again, the assistant twisting the rope, the sergeant using his wedge and mallet, both occasionally slipping on the darkening pool of blood upon the floor.

Again and again Shi-Rong asked questions: “What is your name? Who are your accomplices?” He offered mercy, promised more pain. But got nothing. By midafternoon, the prisoner was drifting in and out of consciousness. It was hard to tell what he heard and what he did not. The room stank of sweat and urine. Shi-Rong suggested quietly to the sergeant that it might be more productive to pause, let the prisoner rest, and then start again the next day. But the sergeant made it a point of pride, it seemed, to break his victims quickly. And he would not stop.

It was only at the end of the afternoon, when he heard the sergeant curse in frustration, that Shi-Rong discovered that the prisoner was dead.

“I never fail,” the sergeant muttered furiously, and walked out of the room in disgust. His assistant followed him.

But Shi-Rong did not leave. He did not wish to be with them. Let the sergeant tell the commissioner he’d failed. He sat down on the bench and buried his face in his hands.

“I am sorry,” he said to the dead man at last. “I am so sorry.” Did he want the dead man to forgive him? He had no hope of that. “Oh,” he moaned, “it is terrible.”

Silence.

And then the dead man spoke. “You’re lucky.” A faint, rasping whisper.

Shi-Rong started and stared at the dead man, who did not seem to have moved at all. Had he imagined it? He must have. Nothing more likely, given the state he was in. He shook his head, took it in his hands again, and gazed miserably at his feet.

“Remember…”—the sound was so soft he wasn’t even sure he heard it—“I told them…nothing.” A whisper, followed by a sigh.

Was he still alive, then, after all? Shi-Rong leaped up. He stood over the dead man, watching intently. He saw no sign of life.

And there must not be. This business had to end. The prisoner mustn’t talk now. Desperately, Shi-Rong looked around for something he could use to suffocate the fellow. He couldn’t see anything. He put one hand over the poor devil’s mouth, grabbed his nose with the other, and stood there while the long seconds passed. He glanced at the door, afraid that someone would come in and see him.

An age seemed to pass before he decided to let go. The fellow was dead, all right. He’d been dead from the start. The whisper? A hallucination. Or perhaps the dead man’s ghost had spoken. That must be it.

So long as no one heard.

—

When Shi-Rong entered the library, Commissioner Lin already knew that the prisoner was dead. He received Shi-Rong calmly. “You look tired.”

“I am, Excellency.”

“An interrogation is a distressing business. But unfortunately it is necessary. If this man had told us his accomplices, we might have questioned them and learned more.”

“I apologize, Excellency. I thought we should allow him to recover and try again tomorrow, but…”

“I am aware of all that. I do not think the prisoner would have talked. I think he wanted to die. For his honor, as he saw it.”

“Do you think he was part of a secret society, Excellency, like the White Lotus?”

“More likely he was just a pirate. These smugglers often come from the same village and clan…they’d sooner die than betray their comrades.” He paused a moment and gave Shi-Rong a bleak smile. “But if I am right, I do not intend to leave his accomplices at large. Tomorrow, I intend to start rounding up all the pirates along these coasts.”

“All of them, Excellency?”

“All that we can find. I expect it will be a large number.” Lin nodded. “And while I am doing that, I have another important assignment for you. Go and rest now, and report to me tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Excellency.” Shi-Rong bowed. And he was about to turn towards the door when Lin interrupted him.

“Before you go, Mr. Jiang, there is something I wish to ask you.” The commissioner gazed at him steadily. “Why do you think I ordered you to conduct the interrogation?”

“I do not know, Excellency.”

“Those who serve the emperor must accept grave responsibilities. A general knows that those following his commands may die in battle. A governor has to mete out punishments, including the sentence of death. And he must order interrogations. These duties are not taken lightly and may be hard to bear. It is important that you learn the bitter meaning of responsibility, Mr. Jiang. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Excellency.”

“There is one thing more.” The mandarin was staring at him now in a way that was terrible. “You must agree, Mr. Jiang, that one aspect of this affair remains to be explained: Did the assassin have prior knowledge that Dr. Parker was going to send me the trusses? If so, was it Parker who gave the secret away? And if not Parker, then who? We cannot exclude the possibility that it was you.” Lin paused. “Can we?”

It might have been part of an examination essay: those Confucian essays for future government servants that called for logic, completeness, judgment. And justice.

“The possibility cannot be excluded,” Shi-Rong agreed.

“I never doubted your loyalty,” Lin continued. “But a careless word to a friend. The word repeated. Gossip overheard. This could have been the source.” Lin’s eyes remained fixed on him. “It is fortunate I was not killed. For if you had been the cause of my death, I feel sure you would have experienced a remorse so heavy that it would have weighed upon you