Shanghai Sparrow Read Free

been scooped up by the fat fingers of merchants, instead of going into the Empire’s coffers where it belonged. This... this was a real prize. If it could be proved to work. But not yet. Not until Holmforth had all the pieces in place.
    He had to ensure that Wu Jisheng did not get any farther, for the moment. And he must not draw the attention of the Imperial court.
    “Should it seem that he may start to obtain what he needs,” Holmforth said, “I would like things diverted. Delayed. Can you arrange that? Nothing to draw attention – simply ensure that any supplies he orders for the work are diverted. That should not create difficulties.” He was well aware of the healthy trade in ‘lost’ goods that somehow ended up in the households of local mandarins.
    The man bowed, and waited.
    Holmforth gave him silver, a substantial portion. Not Her Majesty’s money, but his own. “Twice as much again, if I am pleased with the results. Return in ten days.” That should be time enough.
    With one final bow, the man was gone.
    Holmforth seldom smiled, but he did so now. He stared out of the window, no longer seeing the surging crowd. First, he would book passage home. He would take a zeppelin, though it probably meant a refuelling stopover in Africa, which he loathed; but hang the expense. There was no time to waste. His fingers prickled with impatience.
    Before his posting to the Shanghai Consulate, Holmforth had spent the last few years toiling in a Government post whose major purpose, he realised after the first month, was largely obstruction. Yet it was that post which had brought James Lathrop before him, and without Lathrop, the potential of Wu Jisheng’s creation would have passed him by.
    Working in a tiny draughty office in an obscure corner of Whitehall, Holmforth had become accustomed to the parade of the deluded, the desperate, and the merely fraudulent who were shunted off onto him – the ones, at least, who, like Holmforth himself, had connections , and could not be completely ignored for fear they might prove an embarrassment.
    Thaddeus Holmforth treated every single one of them with a precise and unwavering seriousness. He took notes. He recorded their ramblings, pleadings and blatant deceptions. Because it was his job, and if he did it well enough, his worth – one day, despite everything – would be recognised.
    Paunchy, sweating, and overdressed, Lathrop had seated himself, without being invited, in the creaking chair in Holmforth’s office; wiped his face with an embroidered linen handkerchief, and looked him over. “Oh, there must be some mistake. I was told I would be speaking to the person in charge of scientific advances.”
    “Well, there is no-one with precisely that title,” Holmforth said. “I am, as it were, the first port of call.”
    “Really? Well I must say... this is important stuff, you know. And I have responsibilities, serious responsibilities, at home, I can’t be dashing up to town every five minutes just to speak to someone who isn’t in a position to –”
    “I assure you that I am the person you need to speak to, Mr Lathrop. My function is to assess the information and pass it on to the proper person.”
    “Well, if you’re sure.”
    “Unless, of course, you feel you would rather seek private interest?”
    “Oh, well...” Lathrop slumped back in his chair, his lower lip protruding. “I suppose it will do.”
    At that point it became obvious to Holmforth that Lathrop had already attempted to raise private funding for his venture, whatever it was, and had failed.
    “Now, if you would be so kind as to explain?” Holmforth said.
    “Etheric Science,” Lathrop said. “The use of sound to, among other things, affect mood and behaviour. My... I have designed a number of instruments, which used correctly have an astonishing ability to tranquilise and pacify.” He began to lay out charts and schematics on the desk, all written in a surprisingly neat, small