The Forbidden City, Beijing
Pan-Asian Empire
April 10th, 1940
The Palace of Heavenly Purity had been where the Manchu Emperors had conducted their day to day business, the daily court rituals and their councils of state. Today the Council of Seven of the Si-Fan had been summoned to the former throne room, and there was nothing routine or day-to-day about that.
The five Councilmen (the sixth, Siwan Khan, also known as the Golden Master was still on a secret mission in America) and the singular Councilwoman walked in two lines of three, with the Lady of The Si-Fan walking at the head of the rightmost of the two lines to indicate her place as Primus inter pares. That she had made the other councilmen accept her – at least outwardly - as such was a constant reminder to Fu Manchu of her influence over the Council. They reached the centre of the vast audience hall, with it’s red-painted wooden pillars, it’s exquisite carved woods, the silks, the gilt. Like in the days of the old dynasty, great braziers with burning coal and sprinkled with incense had been arranged in the centre of the room, around the Dragon Throne which had been the literal seat of Government for very nearly five centuries.
Audience hall of the Dragon Throne
In a semicircle in front of that throne, seven throne-like chairs had been placed, and on the Dragon Throne itself sat waiting the Lord of the Si-Fan, not an equal member of the Council of Seven but its undisputed Overlord and Master, Doctor Fu Manchu. Standing next to him was a small silver gong which would be used to preside the meeting much as the wooden hammer of a western chairman. The criminal mastermind, genius scientist and tyrant ruler was clad for the occasion in Imperial Red robes with the Manchu Dragon in gold embroidery on his chest, but in contrast to the Imperial pretension announced by the choice of clothing, Fu Manchu still wore a simple black skullcap with the coral bead of a mandarin on. His towering forehead bore the smoothness of a man deeply relaxed in meditation, and under those satanically slanted eyebrows, his eyes were closed, showing off the relative darkness of the skin covering the eyes.
The Councilmen sniggered – quietly – at the pretension of their Master, and exchanged venomous comments. All, that is, except Nag Po Lama, leader of the Tibetan Warrior Monks of the Black Temple of Tingri, who rarely spoke at all even in session, and then always in a low hoarse whisper. The Lady of the Si-Fan, of course, also neither spoke nor was privy to such comments. All removed any gloves or long sleeves covering their right hands in order to reveal their silver and jade rings of rank to their Master, who at last deigned to open his eyes and waved elegantly with a long-nailed hand.
‘My Lady, Gentlemen, please take your seats.’ And as he was obeyed, he picked up the delicate brass beater and struck the small silver gong, giving rise to a clear, crisp tone.
‘The Council of Seven is now in session!’ Fu Manchu declared grandly. ‘Before I begin with the first point on the agenda, are there any urgent matters that need to be attended to at once?’
‘There certainly are!’ shouted a tall and powerful Hindu, whose features would have been handsome and even regal if not for the evidence they gave of arrogance, pitiless cruelty and ferocious pride. ‘Why have you summoned us to this palace, to preside over our meeting garbed almost as an Emperor of the Qin? Under the roof of the Si-Fan, we submit to your rule, Fu Manchu, but you’re not the only one among us of Imperial blood, nor even the one with the strongest claim! I, the Heir to the Mahratta Empire, will not be spoken down to by a Manchu Princeling!’
‘Oh, do shut up, Dhondu Pant, or at least stay well clear of talk of “Imperial blood”! Being adopted, you do not have a drop of it in your veins!’ jibed a young man of golden skin, fierce eyes and long, black hair and beard, fantastically dressed in a black bejewelled turban, loose red silk trousers and an open black vest of the same fabric with a golden tiger embroidered on its back which showed of his titanic musculature to great effect. He was Sandokan III, known like his grandfather and father before him as “The Tiger of Mompracem” and a close ally of Fu Manchu in the Council, to which he had ascended with the support of the Devil Doctor.
Dondhu Pant, the man who the British had known and hated under the name Nana Sahib nearly a century earlier, drew in his breath for a cannonade of abuse against the Malayan pirate, but he was pre-empted by Fu Manchu himself.
‘Regardless, that item IS on the agenda, and will be dealt with at my discretion!’
The other councilmen bowed their heads, and even the mercurial Nana Sahib, after remaining still and panting for a few seconds did the same and resumed his seat.
‘Very well,’ Fu Manchu said. ‘Let’s proceed then to the first point of the day;’ (he struck the gong) ‘the financial report. Dr No, if you please…’
The treasurer of the Si-Fan, a man of mostly Chinese appearance but, being of mixed blood, of European stature and wearing a strict pearl-grey Chinese costume with wooden buttons rose to his feet smiling.
‘Gentlemen,’ he began, pointedly ignoring any special mention of Fah Lo Suee, ‘the Si-Fan has never been as rich as now. As our Master has ordered, we have hardly dipped into the Imperial coffers, but thanks to our control of the Government, which in turn controls the police, the customs and the courts our businesses have flourished like never before. In the last five months, overall profits are up three-hundred-and-fifty-two-point-five percent! Liquid assets have quintupled, since our placement strategy, previously limited by the bottleneck of money laundering, has been inadequate to handle such a vast cash flow, especially so since we had to simultaneously liquidate our American assets previous to the war. We’re working to rectify that, of course.’
‘Can you give us a rough estimate of our assets, Julius?’ Fah Lo Suee asked, knowing that the use of his Christian name annoyed the treasurer, who had chosen the surname “No” as a symbol of his rejection of his German father bearing that name.
‘Certainly, My Lady!’ Dr No replied without hesitation. ‘Our net total is in excess of three-hundred and eighty-five million pound sterling; a respectable sum by anyone’s standards, I dare say!’
There was an approving round of laughter from the Council members. Most of them were not greedy per see, but regarded money only as a means to their singular end: power. Still, there was certainly nothing wrong with having a fat account!
Fu Manchu nodded. ‘Very good, Dr No, our accounts are in capable hands… and so is our most treasured research project, is it not?’
At the oblique reference to his hands, Dr Julius No rubbed them unconsciously, trying to ease a diffuse aching in them that had only grown stronger in the last few weeks. ‘Rest assured in the knowledge that it is, Master!’ he replied with a bow.
‘Any other questions?’ Fu Manchu asked, and when none where forthcoming, he struck the gong again. ‘Second issue on the agenda is our plot to destabilise the Communist government of Mongolia. Fah Lo Suee, if you please?’
‘Certainly, father!’ The face of the Lady of the Si-Fan, covered in heavy make-up was porcelain-doll perfect with only her flaming green eyes seeming entirely alive. As always, she was wearing a silk dress of traditional Chinese cut, which today was black with decorations also in black, visible only due to their smoother, shinier texture. She stood proudly, even arrogantly, not noticing or not caring how Fu Manchu’s face twisted in irritation at the familiarity of the address.
‘For the last five months’, the Lady of the Si-Fan announced, ‘my agents have spread the word in the Mongol lands that the Great Lord of The Earth has returned to lead his “Tumens” to victory once more. I’m happy to report that the spreading of this gospel…’
‘Of this
propaganda!’ Fu Manchu corrected, looking like a storm cloud.
‘Yes father, …this propaganda has had an incredible effect on the Mongolian people. At the given word the Mongolian Army will rise against its Red overlords and overthrow them utterly. All the plans have been readied, and all preparations have been completed. We await only your command.’
Fu Manchu nodded, looking pleased. ‘Of course, the main obstacle to overthrowing the Mongolian Bolsheviks has never been their own resources, but the might of the Red Army of the USSR. But I have reason to believe they will soon be otherwise engaged. Mongolia will soon be freed from the influence of the Foreign Devils and won for the Empire!’
The Council members nodded in agreement.
‘Well done, Fah Lo Suee!’ Fu Manchu praised his favoured daughter. ‘Are there any questions for the Lady of Si-Fan?’
Sheik Al Jabal, also know as "The Prince of the Mountain”, leader of the famed cult of Assassins recently resurrected by a Yedizid, rather than Shiite Moslem sect rose to speak. He was in his late fifties, and dressed in western fashion in a dark suit of finest cut, although with a Fez on his head. His dark eyes shone with both intelligence and the boundless passion of a fanatic, and his salt-and-pepper beard was as pointed as his features were sharp.
‘Lady Fah Lo Suee, wouldn’t your brother, with his passion for all things Mongolian, have been a better choice for this assignment? Indeed, why is the Golden Master Siwan Khan not attending this meeting today?’
‘I have assigned Siwan Khan to a crucial mission in America, which is the reason why he cannot attend today’, Fu Manchu explained, looking slightly amused. The Council of Seven sometimes seemed made up by nothing of paranoiacs, seeing plots and deception in every minor discrepancy.
Sheik Al Jabal bowed gracefully towards Fu Manchu and sat down, while from under the black hood of Nag Po Lama’s robes, which completely covered his face, came a low terrible chuckle the set the hair on end of most of the other council members.
Again, Fu Manchu struck the gong, and announced. ‘The third issue we need to discuss today is related to the question put forward by the honourable councilman Dhondu Pant; the reasons for our meeting here. From this day on, this will be were the Council of Seven meets, and for a very good reason: I rule the Empire, and you are much like a shadow cabinet. I intend that in the future, you shall become more, that you shall form the core and top of the new aristocracy of this Empire we have created. You shall be my viceroys!’
‘And you will be the Emperor?’ Nana Sahib said in mocking tones.
Fu Manchu smiled and reached with a hand behind the throne. ‘In ancient times, the Son of Heaven would store his will with the name of his heir in this throne, so that there would be no destructive conflict over the right of succession after his death. Well now, what have we here?’
Fu Manchu smiled sardonically and produced a scroll, marked with the red seal of the Manchu Emperor. Unrolling it, he read ‘I declare the heir to the Throne to be Baron Fu Manchu. Signed Pu Yi, Son of Heaven’.
Turning his penetrating jade gaze on the Indian, Fu Manchu smiled. ‘It seems I will be, one day in the distant future, if the Heavens grant our Emperor good health. I have also decided to give the hand of my daughter in marriage to the bereaved Emperor Hirohito.’
‘What!?’ shouted Fah Lo Sue, for once loosing her composure.
‘You heard me, Favoured Daughter!’ Fu Manchu said sternly. ‘From your womb will spring the future line of Emperors. You should be suitably proud, humble and grateful for this great honour that I bestow on you!’
‘I take it that Empress Nagako and the young princes will soon meet with untimely deaths.’ Nag Po Lama hissed laconically. It was not a question.
Even Fah Lo Suee felt sick to her soul by the ruthlessness of Fu Manchu’s scheme. She doubted Pu Yi would mind his own departure very much, in fact the tortured and captive soul of the Chinese Twin Emperor might even be grateful for his release. And as for Hirohito, he had sent his armed forces to invade and rape China, and would now have to pay the consequences. The same, by association went for the Empress Nagako, although she was a kind and good woman as far as Fah had been able to see. But the Heir apparent, Crown Prince Akihito, was six years old, and his younger brother, Prince Hitachi was four! Fah could see that young Sandokan was also aghast, although he tried to hide it. She wasn’t sure if Fu Manchu had noticed.
‘I would never dispute the prophetic powers of the Monks of the Black Temple, Nag Po Lama!’ Fu Manchu said without a hint of humour. ‘It would seem the fates have turned against the Imperial family of Nippon. An accident, or perhaps even more likely, a terrorist act by the British Secret Service could easily have such tragic consequences.’
‘Indeed,’ agreed Sheik Al Jabal.
‘But worry not, my daughter will soon give birth to a new heir, one that will also be mine since I have no intention of marrying!’ Fu Manchu assured. ‘In that boy, the crowns of Japan and China shall be united, and when Emperor Hirohito, his health broken down by grief, dies too, I shall rule as regent on behalf of the boy. One day, he shall take my place and rule as sole Emperor of the Pan-Asian Empire! And that concludes the third point of the agenda. Let’s now retire to the restored Imperial harem for refreshments, relaxation and small talk! You will find that I have not spared any expense, even though I have had to take some reprimands from our good treasurer, in collecting the greatest beauties of the Empire for your enjoyment, Gentlemen. Maybe even you will find some girl sweet enough to whet your appetite, favoured daughter?’
‘Maybe I will, father. You’re most generous!’ Fah Lo Suee said, forcing a smile on her lips.
Never let them see you flinch.
Her answer caused raucous laughter as the men filed out of the room to see the Garden of Pleasure Fu Manchu had prepared for them.