The man peered at the sum, his jaw dropping immediately. “I—I cannot simply agree. I must send telegrams in case there are higher bidders—”
“Double it,” Roma cut in. When Juliette’s gaze shot to him sharply, he smiled, the expression mocking. “We will share, won’t we, Miss Cai?”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Juliette demanded in Russian. She pasted on her own smile, so that the shop owner would not realize they had switched to a different language to argue. They didn’t need the shop owner deciding his vaccine was in high demand. “You already ran tests, remember? Lourens couldn’t reengineer it; he could only determine that it was true.”
“Yes,” Roma agreed. “That time we did not have materials from Paul Dexter. Remember, we can still steal them from you. And if you want this vial that badly, I am sure you think having it will cause a breakthrough alongside the papers.”
Juliette almost started vibrating with her new irritation. He had read her through and through. He always did.
“If shàoyé and xiǎojiě each want their own . . . ,” the man supplied, hands wringing in front of him. There was a new nervousness in his air. He had figured it out, then. Connected the dots on Juliette’s and Roma’s identities, for as soon as Roma had called her Miss Cai, it was not hard to see that the heirs of the Shanghai-native Scarlet Gang and Russian White Flowers stood before him.
“There were two in circulation after the Larkspur went under.” He reached for another slip of paper, and with the same fountain pen Juliette had been using, quickly began scribbling. “The second is in Zhouzhuang, so this is the seller and address—”
“Forget it,” Juliette said. “We only need one, so don’t think you can siphon double the money from us. Take it or leave it.”
The shop owner paused. Juliette could imagine the cogs turning in his head, calculating the chances that there could be a higher bidder, and the risks he would invite if he turned down Shanghai’s gangsters.
Without a word, the man dropped into a crouch and started to enter a combination into a safe under the register, one that Juliette had not even noticed. She frowned, and he seemed to sense it, because as he twirled the combination dial, he said, “People get desperate, and I cannot afford guards.”
The safe hissed open. The man reached in, and out came the vial, glistening the same lapis lazuli blue that Juliette remembered. She shuddered.
“I don’t suppose you have cash on you, do you?”
“We’ll sign IOUs,” Roma replied without missing a beat. The shop owner knew who they were, after all. He knew they were big and mighty enough to keep their word; the Scarlet Gang and the White Flowers had the money.
All they had was money, really.
“Well, thank you for your business,” the shop owner said gleefully, watching Roma and Juliette scrawl their names on the same sheet Juliette had scribbled her offer on. He was right to be gleeful—he had just become very, very rich. The two gangs would feel the effect of this payment, but it was nothing they couldn’t recover from. The Scarlets had recovered time and time again after paying the blackmailer.
“I will be holding on to this,” Juliette said, gesturing for the vial and shooting Roma a warning glance.
Roma did not complain. He let the shop owner press the vial into Juliette’s hands, and while her palm was out, the man tucked in the slip of paper with the address of the second seller.
“You should take this anyway.”
Juliette shoved both into her pocket. Roma only watched the motion warily, his eyes glowering black, like he suspected she would perform a magic trick to make the vial disappear. She wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to make a grab for it at some point on their way back into the city.
Don’t even think about it, she mouthed.
Wouldn’t imagine it, he mouthed back.
“So,” the man said into the silence that had fallen. “Would you two like a bowl of wontons?”
Sixteen
The last train back to Shanghai had been canceled.
“What do you mean it’s been canceled?”
Roma and Juliette jolted and glanced at each other, disturbed by the unison in which they had spoken. The worker behind the ticket booth didn’t notice. She was more occupied by the book open on her lap.
“It has been canceled,” she repeated. “The train scheduled to arrive at nine o’clock was operating earlier and encountered some trouble. It has been rerouted for maintenance.”