Page 15 of A Case of Possession
Crane murmured courtesies and looked round at the urchin, realising that she must be the fourth of Stephen’s team of justiciars. He had heard a certain amount about them all, and had pictured something rather more impressive than the reality. Janossi looked mildly hostile; Saint had what Crane suspected was a permanent smirk. Mrs. Gold was looking at him with interest, her head slightly cocked.
Crane knew from Stephen that Mrs. Gold was the senior member of the team, and that she resented the common assumption that she was subordinate to the men. He addressed his next words to her. “Please don’t think this is vulgar curiosity, but if you want me to translate when someone arrives, it would help to know what I need to discuss. What’s the problem?”
The practitioners glanced at each other, quick fleeting looks. Esther Gold said, “Rats.”
“Rats?”
“Rats.”
“We got a rat problem.” Saint wore a malicious grin.
“I suppose you know you can hire a man and a dog in any pub in this city,” Crane offered blandly.
“It wouldn’t help,” Stephen said. “Joss, show him.”
Janossi put a toe under a fold of the sackcloth bundle and flipped it over. Crane walked over and looked at what lay within.
It was undeniably a rat. Its long yellow teeth were bared in death. Its eyes were blood-filled and bulging, which Crane attributed to Stephen, since he had seen a man dead that way at his hands. Its matted, dirty brown pelt was stiff with filth and dust, its claws were grey and scaly, its naked tail pinkish. It was a rat like any other, except in one respect.
It was about four feet long, not counting the tail, and would have stood perhaps a foot high at the shoulder.
“I see,” said Crane slowly. “No, I don’t suppose a terrier would help, would it. Did you sayrat, Mrs. Gold, orrats?”
“Rats.”
“That’s not good.” Crane stared down at the monster. “How many?”
“Don’t know,” said Stephen. “At least twenty. And they appear to be normal rats apart from the size, so the answer to ‘how many’ is, for all we know, ‘twice as many as yesterday’. It’s been a busy morning,” he concluded casually and met Crane’s eyes for a second.
“You needn’t let it concern you.” Mrs. Gold spoke kindly but firmly. “We’ll deal with this. Just help us speak to the practitioners here, and that will be all we ask of you.”
Janossi nodded reassuringly. Saint smirked. Stephen’s gaze skittered up to the ceiling.
“Thank you,” Crane said pleasantly. “Tell me, what makes you think this is a Chinese problem?”
“How do you mean?” asked Stephen.
“Why Limehouse, why shamans? Are you sure you’re in the right place?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” demanded Janossi.
“Someone’s coming,” said Esther Gold, and they all looked round as a fat, elderly Chinese man bustled in.
“Ah!” he shouted. “Bamboo!”
Chapter Six
Crane folded his arms and glared at Li Tang. He had known the man casually for many years in Shanghai, certainly well enough for Li to use the old nickname that had once been so appropriate for an extraordinarily tall and thin youth. He had met him frequently in the last few months. They had ongoing business dealings. There was no reason at all for Li Tang to be utterly, uncompromisingly unhelpful.
“Why are you being such a complete bastard, my friend?” he enquired in a low voice.
Li Tang didn’t respond to that. His face was stony.
“No shaman may be seen,” he repeated for about the thirtieth time.
“By us or by anyone?”
“No shaman may be seen.”
