Page 92 of The Killer’s Mark

‘I think what you mean to say is, what’s their annual revenue?’

‘Tomaytoes, tomartoes.’

Esmerée scowled. ‘It’s tomaytoes.’

‘The Red Chamber model could be scaled up, but why would they? It’s the exclusivity that allows them to charge the amount they do. We don’t know all the countries they operate in, but in the ones we do know about, there are only ever three Red Chamber concubines at any one time. They’re called the primos, after the primary colours.’

‘Red, blue and yellow?’

Susan nodded. ‘They’re given a variant of their colour as a surname. The yellow primo might be Gold or Amber, the red primo might be Scarlet or Carmine, and so on. The man who buys her is allowed to select the girl’s given name, but it must be associated with her primo name.’

‘The woman I’m looking for is called Océane Blue.’

‘We know.’

‘Do you know her real name?’

‘We do not.’

Poe took his time with his next question, aware that it had the potential to kick-start an upsetting chain of events. It had to be asked, though, and Esmerée had the right to hear it. Whatever happened next, they’d deal with it together. He cleared his throat and glanced at her before he spoke. ‘You said that concubines in pre-modern China were recognised sexual partners and were expected to bear children for the man they were attached to.’

‘I did.’

‘What happens to the Red Chamber children? Are they legitimate? How does that work?’

Susan shook her head. ‘It’s never been an issue.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because men like that don’t want the complication of children. Before the contract begins, the girls are sterilised. Their fallopian tubes are tied before they even meet the man who has bought them. A Red Chamber child cannot exist.’

Chapter 75

Esmerée’s wail of anguish tore a hole in Poe’s heart. He stood, ready to stop her launching herself at Susan. He thought there might be a ‘kill the messenger’ kind of deal. But Esmerée didn’t do that. Instead, she began punching herself in the face. Hard enough to split her lip and bloody her nose. Poe wrapped his arms around her. Grabbed the back of her head and held it. Let her cry and sob. She kept struggling, wriggling, until he whispered, ‘We will fucking sort this, Esmerée.’

Gilliard and Susan looked on in astonishment. Susan’s brow furrowed.

Poe walked Esmerée out of his office and into Bradshaw’s. Bradshaw followed him, concern etched all over her face. If Esmerée wasn’t careful, she was going to end up on Bradshaw’s list of people she protected like a honey badger. That was an intense list to be on. Bradshaw went all-in when it came to friendship. Poe asked Bradshaw for tissues. She got some out of her satchel and passed them across. He wadded them up then gently held them to Esmerée’s nose. He told her to tilt her head forwards until the bleeding stopped. She did. Bradshaw passed her a wet wipe and helped her clean herself.

When her nose had stopped bleeding, and Bradshaw had cleaned the worst of the blood from the Bauhaus T-shirt she had borrowed from Estelle, Esmerée slumped into Bradshaw’s ergonomic computer chair. Spun round and kicked the underside of the desk. ‘Who the hell am I, Poe?’ she said, her eyes still red and wet. ‘I never knew my dad and now my mom’s not my mom. No wonder she didn’t take me with her when she ran away. I thought she was just a bad mom. Turns out she wasn’t even that. Who needs someone else’s brat tagging along when you’re running for your life.’

‘We don’t know that Océane’s not your mother, Esmerée,’ Poe said. ‘We don’t know anything.’

‘Yeah, we do. It’s like I was grown in a lab.’

‘I don’t believe that is the case,’ Bradshaw said. ‘Although the Japanese have made significant technological advancements in ectogenesis – they recently made seven mice from two biological males – there are still significant challenges to overcome, particularly in the little-understood early and late stages of human pregnancy. And don’t get me started on the intense ethical debate.’

‘I definitely won’t,’ Poe said.

Esmerée sniffed. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Checked out the blood. ‘What the hell’s ectogenesis?’

‘The growth of an organism in an artificial environment outside of the body in which it would normally be found.’

‘Like Dolly the sheep,’ Poe said, nodding like he knew what he was talking about.

Bradshaw sighed. ‘I wish you wouldn’t try to do science, Poe,’ she said. ‘Dolly was cloned but the embryo was carried to term in an adult ewe. It was not lab-grown.’

‘Well, all I know is that I wouldn’t eat a Dolly-the-sheep lamb chop. I’d end up with tentacles or flippers.’