Free Breath of Earth by Beth Cato Page A

opium and forced trade. The last Chinese emperor, Qixiang, almost died of an illness, and emerged as a changed man. He broke with his predecessors in a major way and declared that the Manchu and Han would be treated the same beneath the Qing Code, uniting the people as never before. His Restoration came woefully late to avert China’s decline. By then, Japan had already taken Manchuria, dubbed it Manchukuo, and partnered with America with an eye to even greater prizes.
    Ingrid and Lee knew more than most people about the history of China and other places—a different angle of history than what was printed in these books from publishers in Tokyo and New York City. Mr. Sakaguchi recounted tales of India, tales that told of how the original incarnation of the Thuggee cult had likely been a threat greatly exaggerated by the British, an excuse to demonize and massacre settlers in the interior subcontinent; he also told tales about how Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation had not truly eliminated slavery, and that thralldom continued through unlivable wages for freedmen, Chinese, and American natives; and so many other things that people never discussed in public, if at all.
    When she was younger, being party to such knowledge was rather titillating. Now the subjects made her uncomfortable. The meaning of patriotism and sedition had evolved as she grew up, as the war dragged on. She had seen too many newsreels where hooded traitors convulsed at the end of a noose. In light of Captain Sutcliff’s interest, the danger now felt eerily personal and real.
    She straightened the books, simply because she couldn’t bear the idea of them toppling over.
    Why oh why had Mr. Sakaguchi spoken so openly to Captain Sutcliff? Why had the captain even regarded him as a suspect in the first place? She hoped that among Mr. Sakaguchi’s calls, he had also contacted a lawyer. It was a shame he and Mr. Roosevelt had ended their acquaintanceship. He couldn’t have a more powerful ally than an Ambassador.
    She looked around Mr. Thornton’s chaotic office. She couldn’t see this as the work of Captain Sutcliff. If a man was particular enough to have his shoes shined in the middle of the day, he’d ransack a place and leave it tidier than he found it. It looked more like a hasty job of packing—valuable objects like coins still sat on the shelf, yet personal mementos like the map of India were gone.
    She slipped her fingers around the revolver in her pocket.
    The worn ivory handle perfectly fit against her small palm.
    The stairs were quiet as she treaded upward. The bedroom was empty, a bureau left wide open. No sign of sickness or strangeness about the bathroom either. Had Mr. Thornton even made it home?
    The feeling of terrible wrongness increased as she wentback downstairs to the study. If she summoned the police, then what? Captain Sutcliff was sure to find out that two wardens had been absent today, and if he knew she had been here, his suspicion of her and Mr. Sakaguchi would worsen. Actually, he was likely to blame them regardless. Belatedly, Ingrid set her hat on the desk and brushed a hand over her hair.
    The floor creaked behind her. Ingrid whirled around, drawing the pistol.
    A tall shadow of a man loomed in the doorway, and he moved as she did. With a flourish, he withdrew a metallic rod from beneath his jacket. At the twitch of his thumb it telescoped to the length of a walking stick. A blue orb topped the copper pipe. She immediately noted it wasn’t kermanite but some other stone.
    Heat rose to her skin. Gritting her teeth, she remembered Mr. Sakaguchi’s warning and shoved her power down again. She straightened her arm, the revolver at the ready.
    â€œYou!” The stranger stepped into the light.
    â€œYou!” Ingrid echoed, her jaw dropping in surprise. It was the fine-looking man who had spoken to her on the auxiliary steps, the one asking after Mr. Thornton. His hat was off, his