Chapter 1262 - Tō Tarō's Plot
"I wouldn't dare," Ning Liujin said, nodding vigorously.
"Here's twenty-five dollars for now," the man said. "After the job is done, you'll receive another hundred." He dropped a money pouch, then led his men away, leaving Ning Liujin standing alone among the reefs in a daze.
The leader of this group was none other than Tō Tarō. After narrowly surviving the ambush, he had found a secluded spot to bury Zheng Zhilong's head and marked the location carefully. He discarded his tattered garments, changing into clothes stripped from a roadside corpse. Hiding his weapons, he slipped back toward the Zhongzuo Garrison, where he ran headlong into a White Horse Unit security patrol. Having lived in China for many years, he spoke decent Minnan dialect and had long worn his hair in a Chinese-style bun. During the prisoner interrogation, he claimed to be a scattered Zheng soldier and was duly dispatched to Prisoner Camp Beta—the camp for ordinary members of the Zheng organization.
He had always stood at Zheng Zhilong's side, so many middle- and high-ranking figures knew him on sight. But low-level soldiers and sailors rarely recognized him. He had worn European military uniforms, carrying himself as a spirited Japanese samurai. Now, dressed in rags with disheveled hair and a haggard face, he managed to bluff his way through.
In the camp, he discovered several former Japanese Unit members who had likewise concealed their identities. Tō Tarō was rigorous in managing his subordinates, and since they were kinsmen of the same race, their internal cohesion far surpassed that of ordinary prisoners. He quickly took command and began operating in secret.
Gathering these men was not merely about escape. Shortly after his capture, he learned from other prisoners that Zheng Zhilong's eldest son, Zheng Sen, had also fallen into Vagabond hands. The important prisoners were detained in Camp Alpha, two li distant.
Prisoner Camp Beta held the "shrimp soldiers and crab generals"—the low-level drudges—who were frequently dispatched in teams to perform odd jobs. Any prisoner who worked hard, showed willing, and demonstrated an eagerness to "move closer to the Senate" could eventually obtain a small wooden plaque, transfer to the labor camp, and gain greater freedom of movement.
Tō Tarō's group worked diligently and soon earned their plaques. Once they had freedom of movement, they began quietly gathering intelligence. On one work detail, they encountered an acquaintance—a young page boy from Zheng Zhilong's residence. The boy told Tō Tarō that he had seen Fusong taken by the Vagabonds and sent to the VIP prisoner camp. Recently, they had even brought in servants who once attended him.
This vital news filled Tō Tarō with a mixture of excitement and alarm. To protect his secret, he lured the page boy to the seaside, killed him quietly, and threw the body into the sea. Tō Tarō then used his work outings to dig up the wakizashi and valuables he had hidden, which would facilitate his operations. He knew Xiamen Island well and understood that a particular seaside reef cave was exceptionally secluded—he made it his base.
Though they now knew Fusong was in Camp Alpha, they could not enter. A direct assault was fantasy. Since they couldn't fight their way in, they would have to find a way to pull him out. Thus Tō Tarō set his sights on the handful of laborers permitted access to Camp Alpha. Ning Liujin was young, and Tō Tarō judged he would be easier to "persuade." Moreover, youth would be less likely to arouse the Vagabonds' suspicion.
The "persuasion" of Ning Liujin went smoothly. Tō Tarō doubted the man would inform on them, but as a precaution, he sent a subordinate to shadow him.
Sure enough, Ning Liujin returned to the labor camp and continued working. He appeared somewhat distraught, but the tail observed no indication that he had reported anything.
By evening, Ning Liujin went to the administration office to collect military ration tickets. As their prized prisoner, Zheng Sen—along with Zheng Zhilong's wife Lady Dong and other especially important captives—received special provisions. They did not subsist on relief rations or fish gruel; they were supplied with rice, fresh vegetables, fish and shrimp, and a daily allowance of tea leaves—treatment nearly on par with high-ranking officers of the Voight-Kampff Army.
Ning Liujin collected rice, tea, salt, and other items at the supply depot and loaded them onto a "Purple Lightning" handcart. Halfway to Camp Alpha, a short man materialized beside him—one of the men from the cave.
"My name is Wang Dachui," the man introduced himself briefly. "I'm going with you."
Ning Liujin didn't dare refuse. He instructed the man to pull the cart from the front while he pushed from behind.
The pair brought the cart to Camp Alpha's gate. The sentry recognized Ning Liujin but still checked his wooden plaque according to regulations. Then he jutted his chin at the newcomer. "Who's this?"
"He's helping me push. The cart's heavy today—one person can't manage it." Ning Liujin spoke carefully. "He has a plaque. Wang Dachui, show the soldier your plaque..."
The man called Wang Dachui hurried to comply, plastering on a servile smile. He removed the plaque from his neck and handed it over with much bowing and scraping. Though only Ning Liujin held an entry permit, the sentry apparently saw nothing amiss about a laborer helping push a cart. He said nothing further, only inspecting the goods carefully—checking that nothing had been stolen, swapped, or poisoned en route. The supplies were transported in special boxes sealed with wax.
"Go in." The sentry waved them through.
Ning Liujin's heart had been lodged in his throat. Seeing the sentry pass over the extra man without challenge, he hastily expressed thanks and wheeled the cart inside.
Wang Dachui was in fact a Japanese mercenary under Tō Tarō who spoke excellent Minnan dialect and possessed sharp wits. Upon entering Camp Alpha, he quietly surveyed his surroundings. The perimeter was formidable—barbed wire, watchtowers, and sentries. Inside, however, the atmosphere was relaxed. Tents and straw shelters lined both sides of the path. The captured families lived by household; though everyone looked worried, their complexions were healthy rather than haggard. Their clothes were clean and tidy—clearly, the Vagabonds treated them well. Most reassuring of all, no Vagabond soldiers patrolled inside the camp.
The two delivered the goods to the main kitchen and received a receipt. Ning Liujin was anxious to leave and started pushing the cart toward the exit with Wang Dachui. But the other man shook his head slightly.
"Take me to Fusong."
Ning Liujin's legs threatened to buckle. "M-Master... this is too risky..."
"Are you coming or not? If not, I'll turn myself in and say you plotted with me to kidnap Fusong." Wang Dachui grinned. "I'm not afraid to die. Are you?"
Ning Liujin felt the blood drain from his face. He understood now that he had stepped onto a pirate ship he could never leave. He cursed himself for not reporting them earlier. Now that he had brought the man inside, he could no longer clear his name. If exposed, the Vagabonds would show no mercy. He had no choice but to agree.
Fusong's tent stood apart in a corner of the camp. Though young, his status warranted a separate shelter where he lived with the servants and page boys attending him.
Ning Liujin brought Wang Dachui to the tent. He didn't dare enter—he stood guard outside, listening to Wang Dachui speak to Fusong in a language he couldn't understand. Terror gnawed at him. The conversation inside seemed to drag on forever. Every sound on the path convinced him that Australian sentries were coming to arrest him. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead.
After waiting in agony, Wang Dachui finally emerged. Ning Liujin exhaled in relief and hurried to lead him out of the camp.
Wang Dachui returned quietly to the labor camp. Though entry and exit were unrestricted during daylight hours, roll call was held at the first watch. Afterward, the camp gates closed, and anyone missing was treated as an escapee—the punishment was severe. Surprise roll calls occurred at night as well, so Tō Tarō's group dared not stay out after dark.
Once the gates closed, however, the camp became the laborers' own domain. The guards and administrators didn't interfere with daily life inside. Small stalls operated by camp-follower merchants sold daily necessities, cigarettes, and wine. The wine was weak fruit wine; snacks were available too—clams and razor clams gathered from the sea, boiled in salt water, accompanied by boiled edamame and the like. For a little extra money, one could buy freshly grilled fish, shrimp, and oysters, sprinkled with something that smelled incredibly fragrant.
Though the laborers in the camp were essentially forced labor, the Vagabonds issued a small amount of paper currency called circulation coupons each day. Those who worked hard and performed well received more. Thus the stalls did brisk business.
Tō Tarō and his men rarely frequented the stalls—the proprietors and staff were under Vagabond control—but drinking was an excellent pretext for meetings. They sent someone to buy wine and snacks, then gathered on the ground outside their straw shelter, ostensibly sharing drinks while quietly conferring.
"Did you see Fusong?"
"I saw him," Wang Dachui said. His surname was Honda, though he refused to reveal his full name. The Chinese called him Old Ben. The mercenaries vaguely understood that he had once served as a domain retainer. Nine times out of ten, such men ended up overseas because of their Catholic faith—but Honda never prayed nor wore a cross. He was no believer.
"Young Master Fusong is in good health," Honda said. "I told him about our plan to rescue him."
"What did he say?"
"Only that he awaits good news."
"Worthy of being the Young Lord." Tō Tarō nodded with satisfaction. He took a sip of wine. "What manner of man do you think the Young Lord is?"
"What manner of man..." Honda considered the question. "Very decisive. And of a stubborn disposition."
(End of Chapter)