Houses Full of Deceit

Chapter III: Flight

EXPERIENCE, n. The wisdom that enables us to recognize as an undesirable old acquaintance the folly that we have already embraced. -- Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary

Normally Yo-han planned his trips abroad months in advance. He knew exactly where he was going and how long he would be there. Now, with a killer in the city who was undeniably after him, he waited only long enough to convince his stepmother to move the whole family to somewhere safe. She hadn't taken much convincing. He'd shown her the finger, imperfectly preserved and with its skin peeling off, and she'd shouted at the servants to start packing.

Then Yo-han and Colman drove to the docks, where they bought tickets on the first ship they found that was leaving that night. That was how they ended up sharing a cabin in third class on a steamer headed to Yokohama.

They had no anaesthetic, so Yo-han had given Colman two cups of soju before stitching up the wounds. On one hand, it worked. On the other, Colman could not hold his liquor. An hour had passed and he was still stumbling over his words.

"I knooow why he u-used vinegar," Colman said, very slowly and carefully.

Yo-han knew too, but he waited to hear if Colman had some superior first-hand knowledge on the subject.

"He — why do we say he? I've met women who'd cut off fingers. Plenty of 'em. He wanted to per– perse– keep it fresh." Colman stopped and became very interested in the window. "We're moving!" he announced, as if this was a ground-breaking discovery.

Yo-han had known it for the last hour, ever since they had left the harbour. He tried to bring Colman back to the subject. "I'm assuming it's a man because I think I met him once. If it's the same man, his name is An Ji-hun."

Colman said something that sounded like, "Nururdovm." He tried again and managed to say, reasonably clearly, "Never heard of him." Once again he got distracted by the window. "Where's the city?"

"About ten miles behind us," Yo-han said patiently.

"Oh." Colman took a minute to ponder this. "He cuts off fingers. So he wants to keep 'em for himself. So he should have formalade."

At first Yo-han thought this was an English word he hadn't learnt before. He had to suppress a most unsuitable fit of laughter when he realised it was Colman's drunken attempt at saying "formaldehyde".

"So why the vinegar?" he prompted when Colman didn't continue.

"He didn't bring it with him!" Colman seemed ridiculously proud of himself for thinking of this.

Years ago Yo-han had tried to help his half-siblings with their lessons. He felt like he was back in the schoolroom, patiently trying to explain that clouds were not floating snowdrifts. "Why is this important?"

"He couldn't smuggle it in—" He broke off and rubbed his forehead with a pained expression. "My head hurts."

Oh dear. A drunk Colman was mildly entertaining. A hungover Colman, on the other hand? Yo-han knew from painful experience that the mildest person could feel like committing murder when they had a hangover. What would an assassin feel like doing?

"He couldn't smuggle it in," Colman repeated. His voice was clearer but quieter, and he was covering his eyes with both his hands. "So he bought it in England. But he didn't buy enough. Maybe he miscalculated how much he would need, or maybe the chemist got suspicious. So he had to improvise. He used the formaldehyde for the fingers he means to keep for his own collection, and used vinegar to preserve the one he sent to you. He wanted to send a message, so it didn't matter if the finger started to rot."