The Wicked Affair of the Golden Emperor
A Charles Goodfoote Mystery in San Francisco
Chapter 52
Goodfoote confronts the Collective and is aided by the ladies of the Mission House and Kaya.
“Mr. Darrigan, Sir. Lookee what I found, creeping into your library window just like a thieving Injun’. It’s a good thing I was watching the storm coming or God knows what this savage would have done.”
Stanley Walker and William Darrigan stopped talking and turned toward us. Two other men dressed in expensive suits looked at me with raised eyebrows. They would be other members of the Collective. Lo Ping sat alone on a settee, a cup and saucer in hand. Motley stood near a bank of windows, one hand on his revolver.
The room was not overly large, but had a balcony, or gallery, running along three sides of it, where I hoped Doc Thorp waited. The chamber was furnished in rather inexpensive, showy furniture in a variety of colors reflecting Darrigan’s bachelorhood taste. A sideboard holding crystal liquor bottles and tumblers of various sizes reflected the lantern and candle light.
The silence lasted only a few moments before Walker stepped over to me. “Goodfoote,” he said, “It’s not too late to come onboard.” He didn’t offer his hand.
A sharp gust of wind rattled the windows.
“Bullump,” Darrigan said with authority, “what are you doing? Put down that gun.”
“What am I doing? I’m going to shoot this half-breed, swell-headed, son of a bitch.”
“Not before we hear from Mr. Goodfoote, Captain,” Walker added. “Well, Goodfoote? Your choice.”
Darrigan started, “What’s the meaning of this…”
“My choice is to see you hang, Walker,” I said, cutting off Darrigan. In about a minute, I expected all hell to break loose. All I had to do was distract them for a few more seconds. Doc Thorp was an impatient man when his blood was up and I expected a fuselage of bullets from the second floor any moment.
The door from the foyer opened and in strolled three fashionably dressed ladies, hair just a little wind-blown.
“Sure, now, Mr. Walker, Mr. Grues is a very rude man,” Meghan O’ Shannahan said in an exaggerated Irish brogue as they entered the parlor. “For certin’, Sir, You should seek more congenial employees.”
His mouth open, eyes bugged out, Motley stood stock still.
“I do believe it will be raining cats and dogs very soon,” Jonna McMasters observed as she swung deeper into the room. “We will require a closed coach.” Her voice had taken on a Yankee twang.
Emily O’Rourke gave a musical laugh. “I declare. We’ll need a fire soon or I’ll catch a chill.”
Darrigan grinned. “Well, well, well,” he said. “This is a pleasant surprise. The Governor said nothing about ladies being present.”
Walker, his face red as a cranberry, turned to me. “Your presence here is fortuitous. It saves me the trouble of having to hunt you down. Very well. Captain Bullump can now see to your unfortunate demise, and to the ladies’, too.”
“What?” Darrigan exploded. “You can’t mean that, Stanley. Killing people? The women…”
“Shut up, you Ninny. Or you’ll join them,” Walker snapped.
Doc’s non-show was now of concern. Not for me or the ladies, for I had Kaya as my ace up my sleeve, but for Doc Thorp’s welfare.
Bullump, holding his gun steady, seemed to be the only one uninterested in the sudden appearance of the women. “Now I get to make this Breed wish he had stayed pounding buffalo.”
“Not here, Captain. The carpet is by Windom. Take them all out behind the smokehouse,” Walker directed. “We’ll have to change our plans only slightly.”
“ I think I have some of this figured out,” I said, ignoring Bullump and his gun. I had to keep this stage-show going, as I still held out hope for Doc Thorp’s intervention. ‘The Golden Emperor’ has nothing to do with Chinese history or Chinese medicine. It’s simply gold, the emperor of all metals.”
“What are you talking about? What Golden Emperor?” Darrigan had stepped between me and Captain Bullump’s gun. I now realized, as strange as it seemed, I had an ally in Walker’s camp.
“ ‘The Golden Emperor rides the jade dragon through the moonless sky,’’’ I said to no one in particular.
The room was suddenly lit by a bolt of lightning, followed by a thunderous boom. In the flash, I caught a glimpse of the woman warrior’s face just outside the window behind Motley. She wouldn’t shoot unless absolutely necessary. Explaining the presence of a feared Apache warrior this close to San Francisco was something I wanted to avoid, if possible. But without Doc’s participation, that was going to be troublesome.
“The traitor Ming,” Lo Ping said through clenched teeth as he put his cup and saucer on a table and walked toward me. “I suspected he was not as he seemed.”
“Who the hell is Ming?” Walker exploded.
“Ming is Lo Ping’s servant,” I answered, “who sent several coded messages that ended up in my possession.” Bullump had moved around Darrigan, covering me again.
“Ming Ping, shall I sing?” Miss McMasters swirled in front of Bullump.
“Ming was a bit of a puzzle for me, at first.” I continued. “But he knew someone with experience in Chinese culture would eventually see the notes and be able to make sense of them. I don’t think he had me particularly in mind.”
“Please explain yourself, Mr. Goodfoote,” Darrigan said. The ladies’ continuous movements now brought Emily between me and Bullump’s revolver.
“A friend called my attention to the symbols of the Celestial Kingdom. Once I had that, the messages made sense.”
Bullump was trying to get around Darrigan and Emily, but they moved when he moved. Jonna and Meghan continually crossed in front of the Captain, their full dresses spread wide. Motley, clearly unsure of what to do, remained standing by the windows, his gun still in his holster. Where in hell was Doc?
I attempted to hold the attention of the rest of the group. “The jade dragon referred to the Empress, whose symbol is the phoenix. It followed that the gold shipment, the Golden Emperor, was coming aboard the Phoenix on the night of the dark moon. Tonight is that night.”
“You figured that out, Goodfoote?” Darrigan said. “You impress me.” He turned to Walker. “But the Phoenix didn’t come here tonight. My boxcars have been sitting for weeks.”
Again, the wind rattled at the windows as the storm continued to advance.
“Most of the gold wasn’t to come here,” I explained. “It’s probably on its way to Walker’s ranch. What you have in your three boxcars is just the petty cash for Lo Ping. Isn’t that right, Walker?”
Lo Ping, working a different trail entirely, hissed, “You were used by Ming as a convenient messenger. This fool,” he said, pointing to Bullump, “let the reporter take my poster with him.”
“That was the first blunder you made. You sent Ming to put up the poster, but didn’t tell Bullump you wanted it returned. Sending this buffoon to my office for it told me it had uncommon value. By that time, Fong Leung San already had it in his possession, so Bullump was stymied.”
“Fong Leung San is the lapdog of that snake of an Emperor,” Lo Ping said through clenched teeth. “He is but a cunning handmaiden of a corrupt tyrant.”
“Your next mistake was trying to bribe me.”
“You dog’s breath. I needed to know the depth of your dishonesty. All foreign devils can be bought. If you had accepted my generous offer, I planned to have you watch the plague rat Fong and report his movements.”
His narrow eyes bored into me and I think he would have used his long nails on my throat if the situation had allowed it. Not wanting him to think he had the upper hand, I shot back, “It was you and your ivory box that gave me the pieces to the puzzle.”
I’d let him wallow in that mud hole for a bit, and was pleased when he took a step back.
Before this little party came apart, I needed the former Governor to admit he had had Hoople killed. Despite his political connections, if he confessed before witnesses, a rope awaited him. I turned to him. “And you. You had Grues kill the Pinkerton man when he got too close, just as you had him kill the Administrator.”
Bullump snorted as he pushed past Darrigan and the women to land in front of me. “I cut Hoople’s throat, and I enjoyed it. He was like you. A big-headed, suspicious know-it-all. And we had Hobbs right inside your office telling us everything Hoople was up to.”
“Hobbs was a traitor and a coward,” I said. “Just a teller of tales he got eavesdropping. But you. You’ve been a peace officer all your life.” I kept stalling for time, and cursed myself for putting my trust in Doc, a man who was untested in this kind of crisis. Jubal T. would have been blazing away by now.
Bullump guffawed. “Do you know how much a cop makes? In one week, I get more from Walker than I do all year as a Captain. And after Hobbs got into bed with Walker, it made Hobbs a rich man, too.”
I noticed a swirl of colorful skirts out of the corner of my eye. One of the ladies was just behind me.
Bullump smiled. “Killing you will be such a pleasure. I’d like to tear out your throat like I did Hoople, but I’ll settle for blowing a hole in your heathen face.”
“You’ll have to wait for that, Bullump. Your wrangler here ordered you to spare the fancy carpet.” The Captain’s face went from red to near-purple, and I could see him grind his teeth.
Outside, a long peal of thunder rumbled like a cannon being run out aboard ship.
In the moment of silence after the thunder, I heard the click of a revolver being cocked. Although the sound was behind me, I thought it must be Jonna McMasters. She’s the only one with a pistol.
“So it wasn’t Walker’s order to have Hoople murdered?” I asked. Both Walker and Darrigan had remained quiet, as if Bullump and I were actors in a play they were watching from their front row seats.
Emily had moved next to Motley, and Meghan O’Shannahan swirled next to Darrigan.
“I got rid of him myself,” he said, thrusting his face forward. “The bastard was sniffing around the docks, paying off that gimp-eye Skaggs to rat on us.” Warming to his tale, Bullump added, “You never even saw Grues stick that stiletto into him. Grues damn near tripped over you.” Captain Bullump spat on the Windom carpet and got a hard look from Walker for his vulgarity, just as the room lit up from a burst of lightning. A clap of thunder followed immediately.
Bullump was right on that score. I had forgotten Keeps’ teachings about being aware of the entire landscape. All I had remembered seeing was Grues’ tattoo, and being slow as a fat dog in August to put it together with the seaman in the Board of Enterprise saloon the night Skaggs was killed.
The two other members of the collective had become statutes, staying out of the way in wing-backed chairs. They looked like they wanted no part of this unfolding drama, so I dismissed them from my mind.
I saw Bullump cock back the hammer on his revolver as he snarled, “Carpet be damned, Breed. I’m sending your soul to the happy hunting grounds, and no one can stop me.”
A flash of lightning, a slam of thunder, and a gunshot exploded together as the window near Motley shattered. Bullump, eyes wide, mouth agape, grabbed his belly, dropped his gun, and slowly sank to his knees. Jonna McMasters stepped forward, her arm outstretched. In her hand was the short barreled Colt. She approached Bullump and, seemingly without emotion, shot him two more times. I saw Motley then pull his pistol, but before he could fire, the long-awaited roar of gunfire erupted from the balcony. Two men, their rifles flying, burst through the railing and crashed onto the sideboard, smashing decanters and glasses.
Doc Thorp stepped to the edge of the balcony, a smoking revolver in each hand. “I’m a little tardy, damn it. Stand easy, Motley, or you’ll join your mates in hell,” he shouted. Motley had his gun drawn, but I slammed into him before Kaya or Doc shot him. I needed him to talk.
When Darrigan made a move toward the door, Meghan O’Shannahan grabbed Jonna’s revolver and clapped it to Darrigan’s temple. “No, no, Billy me lad,” she announced. “You’re under arrest.”
Walker stood in the center of the room, not moving. He was gasping like a fish tossed on the shore, eyes bulging from his sockets. Accustomed to being in control, the man was at a loss while he watched his cleverly orchestrated world spin away into madness. The two other Collective men jumped to their feet.
Lo Ping had vanished.
Emily O’Rourke went to the side of Jonna McMasters who had gone visibly pale. The lady allowed herself to be steered to a couch where they sat, Emily’s arm around her. Knowing you’ve shot a man dead can give you the wobbles if it’s not in your nature.
Amazingly, no one suspected that first shot to drop Bullump had come from outside the house. It was assumed, and I wasn’t going to educate the crowd, that Jonna McMasters had fired it.
The snap of gunshots and loud cussing caught my attention, and I feared Kaya had been spotted by Darrigan’s army. But then the door was blown open as Deputy US Marshals poured in, and I realized Kaya was safe. What I knew of Kaya’s fighting style, she probably used her Colt on Bullump because it was a short distance, but she would be firing her rifle if attacked.
Behind the Marshals, leaning heavily on an Army trooper, was Jubal T. His scalp wound had opened and a thin trickle of blood was running down his pale face. He had gotten his coat on over his shoulders, but the gauze on his left arm showed spots of blood.
Leaving Darrigan in the hands of the Marshals, Meghan O’Shannahan ran to Jubal and helped him to a couch where she held a handkerchief against his head wound. A blanket was found and she wrapped it around him. Doc Thorp, his duty as gunhand over, began to work on Jubal. As the Doc took over, Meghan went back to cover Darrigan with her short Colt, which left the Marshalls free to clap Walker, Motley, and the other two Collective members in irons.
Jubal’s voice was weak. “Barkley got to Walker’s about a half hour after you rode out. He had fifty troopers with him. And guess who was leading them?” Into the room walked my old friend Seth Mahoney of the US Treasury Department.
“Charles Goodfoote,” he began, as he shook my hand. He was a big man with a large mustache and ready grin. Dressed like a banker, shirt still blindingly white despite his hard ride from the Presidio, he said, “I see you’re in the thick of things again. You look like a man who was in a hammer fight without a hammer.” He then turned to Miss O’Shannahan. “And you can stop pointing that pea-pistol at Mr. Darrigan, daughter. The Gold Stock Insurance Company would be mighty displeased if you shot their senior agent.”
“Father, you didn’t tell me he was an insurance agent,” Meghan said, handing the pistol to Mahoney.
I looked from Mahoney to Meghan. “Father? Daughter?”
“That’s right,” Seth said. “And the bane of my existence since she came screaming into this world. But she’s one of our top undercover agents, when she’s not too busy as an actress on the stage in Chicago.”
Jubal seemed perplexed. “Are you Miss O’Shannahan, Miss Mahoney, or someone else?”
“To you,” Miss O’Shannahan said with a wide smile, “I’ll always be Meghan. The rest isn’t important right now.”
“Bedford here had gotten the stable hands to harness up a phaeton by the time we got there. He wasn’t about to miss this little action,” Mahoney said. “I convinced him to let one of my men drive.”
“What’s this about the Gold Stock Insurance Company, Seth?” I asked. Jubal and Miss O’Shannahan clearly had other things on their minds, but I had a job to finish.
“Mr. Darrigan had been monitoring the theft of gold for some time. Small amounts, nothing too big. But about three years ago the amount increased significantly, and we were brought in.
“We thought it best to keep Darrigan in place undercover until we could put together all the pieces of the scheme. How it was being done. Who was involved. And where the gold was going. That’s when John Fong came into the picture.”
“Doc is checking out the bodies. Excuse me, Seth. I have some questions for our Coroner.” I stepped over to where Doc Thorp, his compassionate healing physician duty temporarily finished, had became the dispassionate Coroner.
“Sorry for the delay in joining the party, Charles. Those two gunnies had me blockaded for a piece.” He had answered my question of what had held him up, before I could ask.
“You were there when needed, Doc. I’m grateful.”
I watched him check the two men he shot for signs of life. That task completed, he pulled a small leather book from his coat pocket and begin taking notes. He saved the policeman for last.
Mahoney joined us. The men bent over Bullump’s body and began to search the dead man’s pockets, which left me free to check on Emily and Jonna. “Thank you for saving my life, Miss McMasters,” I lied. “Things may have gone badly if you hadn’t stepped in.” This proper young woman had put the finishing touches to Bullump, and I was grateful. She had fired a second after Kaya. The thunder drowned out the roar of the Apache’s revolver, and the shots were close enough together so no one but me noticed.
Through her tears, Miss McMasters looked up at me. “My real name is Jonna Hoople. Jimmy was my brother. That man killed him, and talked like Jimmy didn’t matter. Like…”
Emily interrupted. “She took the position at the Mission House so she could live in San Francisco and look for her brother’s murderer.” Emily’s jaw tightened. “She found him.”
“If it hadn’t been for you three ladies, things would have turned out poorly. I owe you all for keeping Bullump from turning me into a former detective. It took real courage to swirl in front of his gun. I won’t be underestimating you again.
“And Miss Hoople here saved Bullump from the hangman,” I said. “Now, we’ll get a coach for all of you as soon as we can. You’ll be wanting to get clear of all this blood, and back to someplace where sanity rules .”
“You won’t have her arrested?” Emily asked as she stood.
“For saving my life, and ridding the world of a murderer? I think not.”
“Thank you, Charles.” She paused as if wanting to say more, but then turned back to join her friend.
“Nothing of note on any of the bodies, Charles,” Seth said when I rejoined him. “Though this carpet will never be the same. The young lady made a mess of Bullump. That little pistol she used made a hell of a hole, clean through him.” He looked at me sideways. “Anything you want to add to the story you been telling me?” When I shook my head, he glanced at the shattered window, then continued with a shrug, “And your partner on the balcony made a mess of the sideboard. Who are those two dead men?”
“Walker’s thugs. They were up there with rifles. I think we prevented the Collective, including Darrigan, from being eliminated in a bloodbath so Walker could have it all.” I nodded toward Jonna and Emily. “We’ll need a closed carriage for the womenfolk. No need to bother them any further tonight. They’ve been through enough.”
“I agree,” said Mahoney. “We brought a closed rig with us. It’ll comfortably hold six out of the weather.”
“It’ll be a long night for you, Seth. There’s the body of a man I killed, name of Grues, over in the smokehouse. Self-defense.”
“Put that in your report. I’ll want details.”
“And it seems Lo Ping has disappeared.”
“The Chinaman is Fong’s problem. I’m sure John will know how to deal with that scoundrel.”
“Have you worked with Fong before?” I asked, since he seemed to know the man.
“We’ve been in touch now and again. A member of the Six Companies notified the State Department a couple years ago about a foreign national they felt presented a danger to the citizens of America. State kicked it over to us at Treasury when they found out gold was involved. We’ve been working with the Six Companies through Fong to keep an eye on certain individuals. Meghan was placed in the Mission House because we knew the Collective was funding a large portion of its activities. She was to observe and report. Not get herself kidnapped.”
I thought about the way she had handled the thugs who had attacked her in Chinatown. Meghan and Jubal were a good match.
“So John Fong’s men have been watching Lo Ping?” I asked.
“Him, and others.”
“I think Walker gave the order to have Administrator Dillman murdered,” I said.
“Yes. Looks that way,” Seth agreed. “We didn’t see that coming at all.”
“I think I better get those women in the carriage. If convenient for you, Seth, I’ll meet you later at your hotel. They have a great sideboard.”
“Hold on there a minute, Charles. You’ve run up a pretty high body count and what happened to Bullump requires some further explanation . I don’t want any surprises in the report you’re going to write.”
“I’m feeling like I’ve been stomped by a mule, Seth. Could we hold off on the details.”
“Barkley’s outside with his men. He’ll want me to give him some kind of report. But you look like hell, so I’ll give him a brief summary of what I know now.
“The sun will be up in another hour and I won’t be finished here until noon, if I’m lucky. I’m staying at the Empire on Claremont. I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow and get one of my clerks to take down your version of events. That’ll give you time to gather your thoughts, make some notes while this is still fresh. Right now, there are three jail wagons coming. Should be here in a few minutes, and we can haul this bunch of malefactors to the cells at the Presidio.”
He accompanied me to the door, and we shook hands, just as a loud thunder clap sounded. “I also have two men keeping an eye on Walker’s wife in case she decides to run.”
“I don’t think that’ll happen. She just did what he told her. I know enough about this city, Seth, to know she’ll walk away with her husband’s money, free as a bat.”
It was a closed coach that took Emily, Jonna, Meghan and Jubal to the Catholic Mission House. I knew Bedford would be more comfortable with the women nursing his wounds than with the Doc. And I noticed Jubal let Doc keep Triumph, at least for the time being.
Under the guidance of the US Marshals, troopers piled their prisoners into coaches, the infamous Paddy Wagons. My last glimpse of Walker was when he shoved another prisoner out of the way so he could get a seat in one of the Paddy Wagons. His color had returned along with his rude manners.
The wagons, filled with hard-looking men, rumbled away as a crack of lightning and a slam of thunder signaled the start of heavy rain that soon drenched everyone not under cover. The trooper teamsters shouted encouragement to their horses, not wanting to bog down in the mud that was sure to follow the deluge.
My fight with Grues had left me bruised and busted, but I knew a hot bath and some needed sleep would need to wait. Avoiding roaming Marshals, I walked out to a grove of trees a good hundred yards from the house, hunkered down under a rough canopy, and waited. Within a quarter hour, Kaya joined me.
“It will take me a few suns to finish my work here,” I said, as the rain pelted the leaves above us. “Then I will return with you to the land of the Red Paint People.”
“I will wait for you on the mountain that looks like a sleeping woman,” she said.
I knew the place. It was called Jefe Sueno by the locals. The Mexican outlaw Joaquin Murrieta supposedly had his stronghold among its twisted canyons. “I will be with you before Grandmother Moon shows her full face again,” I said. “If I don’t come, it means yah-tats-an.” Kaya’s people don’t talk about being dead, but this means the same thing. Roughly translated, it means that I have gone away and won’t be back. This would give me a full month to finish up with this entire wicked affair before Kaya and I left for her home.
I kept Battle, and Kaya ‘borrowed’ a horse from Darrigan’s stable that looked like it could run. With our heads bent, we rode into the driving downpour until dawn.
I thought it best to accompany the woman warrior as far as possible. Near the Jefe Sueno foothills, we sheltered in a small cave overgrown with scrub pine until the rain eased off. Kaya agreed enthusiastically that it was better for her to wait until the sun came out and dried the trails leading up into the hills. The blanket we spread on the sand that had drifted into our sanctuary was a bit damp, but we didn’t mind. We shared the canteen Kaya had with her.
It was near noon, with the sun beating down, when we finally emerged from our cave, found our horses, and said our goodbyes. Kaya was going to be doing some hunting, and headed along a trail that went between large stones. I turned Battle’s head toward the city. During our time in the cave, when we talked, it was mostly about her great journey from Apacheia.