35 – Don’t Introduce a Chinaman (11)
The sky over East End was unusually clear that early morning. It reminded those who had forgotten the true color of the sky due to constantly being obscured by heavy clouds and factory smog.
It was an excellent day for a funeral.
Porlock thought so as he sipped his piping hot tea for warming his throat. However, realizing that it was the tea enjoyed by the Chinese, he grimaced and had no choice but to put down the cup.
In front of Porlock, Mac was obsessively cutting the meat that the Chinese man had brought, like a neurotic patient.
Unable to bear it any further, Porlock decided to speak up.
“Ease up, Mack. You can’t even eat the meat.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s Chink food. Has no taste anyway. And cutting it up like this…it soothes me. It’s a…what’s it called…sort of mental cultivation.”
“You’re talking nonsense.”
With that, Forrock lit a cigarette, sparked up a tiny flame with his fingers, and lit the tip. Not long after, the thick clouds of cigarette smoke began to pollute the air inside a shop run by a Chinese immigrant in East End.
The East End district was a melting pot. No one really cared about who came or went; it was a given here.
Of course, the Chinese restaurant was mostly filled with people from West End including Mack and Forrock.
It was irregular, but thankfully, no one noticed. The grumbling Forrock, Mack, and others were spaced apart at the table, nibbling on their food pretending not to know each other.
While leaving the unwelcome Chinese food cold, Forrock passed the time by reading the morning newspaper, while Mack, who still couldn’t stop his knife, carefully opened his mouth.
“Hey, Forrock.”
“If you’re gonna talk nonsense, keep quiet and cut the meat.”
“You prejudiced bastard, you’re discriminating against me because I’m Irish, aren’t you?”
“Do you have any potatoes?”
“Bastard. Anyway, we’re helping the women, right? Then, who’s looking after the men? That petty thief, surely?”
“…Sweeney.”
“Damn, that ruins my appetite. Why did he suddenly come out?”
“He needs many tools. He must be busy today, lucky man.”
Mack couldn’t see Forrock’s expression hidden behind the newspaper, but assumed it was similar to his own.
Just thinking about the pie tainted his taste, so he could only spit out on the floor with a harrumph.
“It’s disgusting, you country-bred! We have to wait to meet the Chinese girls, so don’t cause a stir, or should I tell the professor?”
“I got it, just keep quiet. It’s incredibly boring.”
Mack wanted to snap back when Forrock scolded him. However, because Forrock mentioned the professor, he had to sit still.
There were many people on streets who scared them, but the most intimidating one was the Professor. Mack quietly stroked the blade of the knife in his pocket and waited impatiently for the signal from the Professor.
As many customers were arriving at the East End district and waiting for their turn, a small meeting was taking place in an upscale restaurant in the nearby City of London.
Although he had already dined with Miss Sue Robinson personally, the restaurant where the lunch appointment was scheduled was literally empty.
No other customer was there, since the whole building was rented out. The staff members were also very few and even they were agents prearranged by Moriarty.
In that restaurant, the five people sat exchanging greetings- Fu Manchu who ruled East End, his eldest son Robinson who initiated this meeting, his only daughter Sue Robinson who recently got close to Professor Moriarty pleasing Fu Manchu, James Moriarty who had just taken control of West End, and finally, Sebastian Moran who Moriarty always dragged around.
There were no guards for this private meeting. The fact that Fu Manchu, a strategist, had no guards even though he was old and dying, showed his confidence.
Furthermore, he was sure of their trust and he believed his eldest son wouldn’t harm his father, sister, and Moriarty at once.
Moreover, Moriarty’s proposal was sufficiently pleasing to blur the eyes of the old Chinese man momentarily.
Fu Manchu knew the difficulties of transferring everything to his youngest son. If he had enough time, there might not have been any issue.
But he knew that he was dying, and this anxiousness always came back as poison.
Therefore, Moriarty’s positive response to collaborate with the old man and his successor, and the news of getting close to his daughter, were a great relief.
“Professor Moriarty, or should I call you James from now?”
“Please call me as you please, Dr. Fu Manchu.”
“Well, you can also call me father since Sue talks about you these days.”
Fu Manchu, stroking his beard, seemed pleased as he spoke. Hearing this, Sue silently smiled, unable to hide her satisfaction.
Only Robinson, Fu Manchu’s eldest son, carefully maintained his silence. It wasn’t that he wasn’t nervous even though he was aware of all plans.
But, thanks to Moriarty’s gaze on him unnoticed by everyone else, he managed to compose himself.
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Mr. Robinson suggested they all enjoy the wine prepared by Moriarty as a celebratory drink, and under the assistance of a waiter, the red wine was slowly poured into their glasses.
It was said that the needle was injected with poison. Mr. Robinson proposed a toast and they all slowly sipped their drinks.
Of course, it took time for the poison to spread, which was inevitably anxious. Even though they had already taken the antidote from Moriarty in advance, they could no longer reach for the glass.
Everything felt uneasy.
Although he scolded his younger sister for rudely interrupting the meal to fix her makeup midway, ironically, his father, who was in a good mood, chastised his eldest son instead.
Despite this, the foolish old man, Fumanchu, continued the conversation due to his age. It was the final banquet of the old Chinese man.
“Indeed a joyous day, the union of the two families will certainly bring prosperity to us all.”
“There’s no talk of engagement yet, Father.”
“That’s true. But since we’ve gathered to have a discussion, why not include that talk too? Professor Moriarty, you remind me of my youth.”
“Do I?”
“Yes, those ambitious eyes, it’s very masculine indeed. I too…had big dreams when I first arrived in London as a young man. To rule in London, not just East End, like a king. Many events occurred, and unavoidably, I had to get my hands dirty in blood. Yet… I am confident that this union can make us all kings.”
“A king…”
Moriarty pretended to take another sip of wine and put down the glass. However, an obvious ‘slip-up’ knocked over the glass, and the red wine began to spill onto his hand and clothes.
Shu tried to pull out a handkerchief to help clean up, but he stopped her with his wine-stained hand and started to speak as if he was a drunk college student.
“There’s still a strong smell of blood here. Not even all of Arabia’s perfumes can clean this little hand.”
His unexpected words caused a brief moment of silence, but Moriarty added immediately.
“Shakespeare, Macbeth, right. But this wine can be cleaned, so please excuse me for a moment. Moran, you should come too, wait by the side with a towel.”
As Moriarty forcefully took the wolf, Su, who had been silently focusing on her eating, and left the table, an uncomfortable silence roamed among the Chinese people.
Ironically, the coldness replaced the warmth that Moriarty, who was still a stranger, brought when he left the table.
Uncomfortable silence and anxiety.
But it did not last long.
Suddenly Fumanchu started coughing. Seeing this, Shu Robinson also started mimicking by clutching her chest.
With each cough, Fumanchu, who had started vomiting blood bit-by-bit, soon realized what was happening to him.
He tried to prepare a curse toward the one who planned this event in rage. But the old Chinese man could not.
Just like that, Fumanchu fell to the floor, everything was over.
Mr. Robinson thought, as he cautiously examined his dying father.
– Bang!
The gunshot sounded, and just like that, Mr. Robinson fell to the floor, going to the afterlife to meet his father first.
Shu Robinson, who was thought to be down, was gathering her breath with a gun in her hand.
Upon hearing the gunshot, Moriarty started wiping his hands with the towel he received from Moran, who was standing quietly beside him.
After completing his task, the towel was thrown into a corner.
He took a break as there was much to be done. In the meantime, his hand was rummaging through the space behind the bathroom mirror.
When Moriarty took his hand out, a small gun was inside it, and he silently handed it to Moran as they walked out.
“Oh… James!”
Seeing Moriarty approaching, Shu Robinson smiled. Because everything was just beginning.
But she could see that Moriarty was not walking toward her, but rather toward the dying Fumanchu.
Offended by this odd behaviour— as if he was ignoring her— Shu Robinson opened her mouth to speak.
– Bang!
Another gunshot sound. Shu Robinson heard the sound that should not be heard.
What?
In an instant, she had a thought.
What happened?
Even as she thought this, her body was already falling to the ground. Moriarty still wouldn’t even bestow a glance upon her.
His gaze did not touch her, as if she was just a corpse that needed to be taken care of.
Why, why?
Sue Robinson could no longer harbor any doubts.
